


Please, Don't Die

by nathan_charles



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Endgame Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, F/M, Minor Character Death, Suicide, Violence, slight gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16564481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathan_charles/pseuds/nathan_charles
Summary: Before Clarke could turn around, a small click came from behind her. It was so quiet that she didn’t think she actually heard it. When she turned around, she was met with the angry sheen of a matte berretta pistol. A wave of ice froze her in place, having never stared down the end of a barrel before. Guns were usually pointed at the dead, not other humans.“Who are you?” the gun’s owner asked with a chilling voice. Clarke’s throat bobbed with a gulp as she dared venture her gaze past the metal pointed at the center of her brow. Azure met clouded olive orbs, catching the oxygen in her throat.orNobody had ever expected the dead to come back to life. It was just another normal day for Clarke Griffin when she came face to face with death and it's bloodied teeth. Months go by after that fateful day, and Clarke finds herself alone after losing everyone she ever loved. When a horde traps her in an old church, she stares down the barrel of a stranger's gun. A stranger that would turn her whole world upsidedown whether she liked it or not.





	1. Prologue: Who Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 8,324  
> Chapter Rating: idk something older than PG-13. There's some mature themes here and there.

On August 20th, 1996, in the heart of Louisiana, Clarke Griffin was dragged into the world kicking and screaming with white curls adorning her head and a silver spoon sticking out of her mouth. The gentle cradle of her mother - Abigail Griffin, or Abby - did nothing to soothe the stubborn babe. It wasn’t until the soft rasps vibrating from her father’s - Jake Griffin’s - lips did her tiny lungs surrender the fight against the harshness of breathing oxygen for the first time. Her tiny eyes fluttered open in the painfully bright operating room to see a pair staring down at her with a look she would come to recognize as the whole world.  
   
Being the picture of perfect health, Clarke was cleared for release, and Abby and Jake departed the hospital less than 24 hours later with their little pink bundle slumbering away like there wasn’t a trouble in the world. Unbeknownst to the tiny infant, the house they pulled into would be the very house in which she took her first steps, spoke her first words, rode her first bike, kissed her first boy, and drank her first beer sophomore year with her father during a football game. It was also the place she attempted to have sex for the first time, but since most high school boys didn’t know how to kiss a girl without premature bliss, it didn’t get further than the simple action of unbuttoning his jeans and allowing him to cop a feel under her bralette.  
   
Clarke’s life was a simple one with supporting parents through it all. Or at least it was at first. Abby was often absent, being the leading trauma surgeon at the local hospital, and Jake would often tell Clarke she was off being a superhero. She spent the early years of her life idolizing her mother for fixing people up, and often gushed to her father that she was going to be just like Abby. They were so proud of her childlike ambitions and encouraged her with plastic doctor toys, and assisted her while she performed surgeries on her favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Kitty, who was actually a dog.  
   
It wasn’t until she grew into a trainer bra did she realize her absent mother wasn’t who she truly idolized. Jake had always been there for her, and it was, in fact, he who taught her where babies came from, that santa wasn’t real, and what periods were when she came home crying one day because she thought she was dying and had some sort of cancer. He became her savior, the one to make sense of this scary world in which she had little understanding of, and she strived to be the kind soul he was.  
   
Of course, Clarke still believed that the path of a surgeon was her life’s calling. As much as she resented Abby for the lack of presence in precious family moments, which included many christmas days and birthdays, she hungered for the love in which Abby expressively lacked. It was when Clarke spoke of her ambition to become a neurosurgeon did Abby exude what Clarke pegged pride and affection. It was gratifying each time Abby brought up Clarke’s impressive markings on monthly report cards in classes like Biology, Chemistry, and Physics.  
   
It wasn’t until Clarke got her acceptance letter to Arcadia-Polis University, a prestigious college which produced many groundbreaking scientists and doctors, did she think Abby actually loved her. She shed tears of joy for her daughter and even let her celebrate with wine and champagne, oblivious to the fact Jake let Clarke drink beer every monday night football, though the neighbors had to have known by the way they whooped and hollered when the Saints pulled off a good play.  
   
With the help of a few scholarships, and her mother’s promise to pay off college loans, Clarke was off to live a college life months after graduating salutatorian. It wasn’t easy at first. Adult life was catching up to her quick, but it was her father’s guidance that lit her path to stability. Insurance, taxes, and the purchase of her first vehicle was all taken care of with his dutiful counseling.  
   
Her classes, while somewhat challenging, were much easier than her high school teachers made it out to be. Her generals were completed with good marks, but things didn’t start to change until year two rolled around. In the midst of one of her finals many, it dawned on her that she didn’t actually want the life of a surgeon.  
   
Clarke had always harbored a love for art. There was a time in which she aspired to fill a small gallery with her charcoal sketches and paintings, but that dream was swept under the rug amidst the pressure of becoming the surgeon she said she wanted to be when she was six. While she managed to shove those thoughts in the back of her mind for years, it was becoming harder and harder to push them back into the cage in once they were.  
   
The first person Clarke had admitted these thoughts to wasn't her father, but her trusted roommate and best friend, Raven Reyes. She sympathized with Clarke’s doubts of becoming something she didn’t want, but encouraged her to finish out the year. Which she did.  
   
It was the summer after her second year did she tell her father she wasn’t proceeding on to her third. For weeks she built up the disappointed expression on Jake’s face when she told him, how his heart would break in those identical blue eyes. It pained her to think that those eyes would look upon her so differently than they did 20 years ago.  
   
But all those fears and anxieties were all for nothing. She wept before him, telling him that she couldn’t bear the life of watching people meet their end and miss her children’s soccer games like her mother had missed almost each and every one of hers. He held her tenderly like he did when she first entered this world, and those kind eyes never wavered. That day, he became the most supportive person on her path to becoming an astound artist.  
   
Unfortunately, her mother didn’t feel the same. Her fears of telling her mother were all for good reason. She reacted exactly as Clarke had predicted, and Abby commanded that she continue her studies in medicine. She threatened to stop paying for Clarke’s college fees and her car loan, but Clarke believed her mother to be bluffing. She wasn’t.  
   
Clarke started her first year towards a fine arts degree in the fall of 2017, and Abby didn’t spare her single cent. It lead to many fights, not just between her and Abby, but it tested the once happy marriage of Jake and Abby Griffin. They fought for as what felt hours and hours at a time, and it tore the once ironclad bond to shreds.  
   
To make ends meet, Clarke found a job as a pizza deliverer to pay for her collegiate path, and sometimes worked as a bartender for extra hours. She spent many sleepless nights struggling to get her assignments in on time, since her jobs barely gave her enough for a means of living or enough time in the day to do anything but pour drinks and deliver pizzas to hungry stoners and families.  
   
It was one of the hardest points in her life, having to somehow remind herself to take a few seconds to make ramen at three in the morning during her creative streaks - which undoubtedly portrayed her downward spiral of mental health- and force herself to sleep because her classes would start in two hours. She would spend some nights staring at her little bottle of xanax tabs, prescribed after graduating high school, to end the nightmare she imposed on herself all because she wanted the freedom to chose her own path. But she prevailed.  
   
After watching his daughter struggle to take care of herself, Jake had enough of Abby’s financial embargo. He ended the joint bank account he shared with Abby as a sign that he had enough, and he began helping his daughter with her financial difficulties. Of course, Clarke being the stubborn bull she was, tried to convince her father that he need not go through such drastic measures and didn’t want to cause the rift between her parents to grow further into a trench. Being just as stubborn, because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree for a reason, Jake takes matters into his own hands and pays off Clarke’s car loan.  
   
By the time she started her second year towards her fine arts degree, the dark circles under Clarke’s limpid blue eyes faded, her tummy felt more full, and the color returned to her fair skinned face. She was able to drop her job as a bartender with the aid of Jake’s monthly checks, and she stopped staring at her xanax bottle like a starved animal with the help of Raven -whom she moved in with after her required year of dorm life expired- showed her that it was okay to lean on someone for support. After such a hard year, she knew that this was what she deserved. Happiness.  
   
But the thing with happiness is… That it never lasts long.  
   
On one fateful May day, with summer just around the corner, did the world unhinge from sociatol tangent. It was a day in which Clarke had no classes, and she drove around town delivering pizzas like a glorified mailman. It didn’t seem like a monumental day, at least not to Clarke. She wasn’t one of the many huddled around the televisions with interrupted programs, and nor did she bother listen to music without an aux cord plugged into her phone to avoid radio ads.  
   
She was completely unaware of the breaking news, but who could fault her? It had been less than a few hours since the world pivoted from it’s consistency. She had no clue that the pizza she was about to deliver would change her life forever.  
   
All previous connotation of scary movies had been thrown out the window as she approached the cracked open door of the house she was set to deliver. Her knuckles rapped on the chipped white paint of the weathered wooden door, and the hinges groaned in protest at the force. She stated loud and clear of her purpose when the sound of dragged footsteps became apparent. When no response came, she pushed the door open, and nothing in the world could have prepared her for the monstrous sight her eyes befell.  
   
She barely had time to register the man quickly approaching her. His skin was void of all color, but she only noticed the ripe blood dripping from his mangled teeth down to his clothes. She stood petrified as sounds of gargled groans erupted from the feral man, and she didn’t feel her body move until his red stained fingertips reached out for her like a child wriggling their dirty fingers out for a piece of candy.  
   
She had gotten away, luckily, but it was no easy feat. Having forgotten she trudged up a few stairs, she tumbled to the ground and the feral man followed. She managed to push him off before his snarling teeth snapped hungrily on her throat. The feral being was left behind in the wake of her burning tires, along with the pizza which had been scattered about the seasoned concrete.  
   
Life as Clarke Griffin knew it had ended in those few seconds of raw terror.  
   
The world broke in a week. Screams of terror rang through the air until there was barely a breath left to be made. Each soul was beaten, bruised, and torn apart as they watched their loved ones fall prey to the rise of the dead. The once burning passion of man was stripped from every being, and all that was left was a means of survival.  
   
In this time, Clarke, her parents, and Raven managed to escape the chaos of the big cities and situated themselves at one of the many army bases sworn to protect its occupants from the horrors awaiting on the outside. They were all placed with jobs and rewarded with meal tickets when their duties were fulfilled. Abby was obviously given the duties of a trauma surgeon, Jake oversaw the construction and upkeep of the only wall separating the dead from the living, and Raven tinkered with the military issued vehicles since she had, after all, gone to college to construct machines of the future. Clarke, on the other hand, was placed with the duty to watch and care for the children of the parents who were either off working their jobs around the base, or were on the other side of the wall cannibalizing what they can.  
   
Geeks.  
   
That’s what Jake called the living dead instead of zombies. And Clarke took to it like many of the other things she adapted from her father. She even got Raven and Abby to start calling them that too.  
   
Jake made it his duty to educate both Clarke and Raven about the wilderness to ensure the geeks wouldn’t get them. Each night, after a tireless day, Jake would sit them down over their rewarded meal and teach them something new. He called it Earth Skills 101, and even though Clarke and Raven had convinced themselves that they would never have to use this information - because how could the army base fall- they couldn’t wait to hear each story Jake associated with his lessons. Sometimes Clarke even told these stories to the children she watched.  
   
Abby, on the other hand, would sit and listen to the stories she had heard many times before, but the smile on her face never waned while he spoke. It seemed, to Clarke, that it took the end of the world for her mother to treat her family like family again. She even became a second mother to Raven, who had been left an orphan before the apocalypse. Clarke didn’t even bother being jealous, because Raven had been like a sister to her since they first shared a dorm, and she deserved any sense of family.  
   
Two months. They spent two months living out a fantasy in which everyone thought they could somehow make living on this military base last a lifetime. Oh how wrong they all were. But how could they think otherwise when everything slowly started to become normal?  
   
After a day in which everyone dubbed to be no different than the other, the night brought upon an evil rising from the earth, literally. One of the duties of a nurse was to ensure that those who passed away were buried with a knife wound adorning their skull. Any body left without a puncture to the brain would be sure to come back.  
   
And that’s exactly what happened.  
   
The evil struck quietly, luring one life at a time towards the darkness of death. Disarray consumed the camp with it’s gnarly teeth, turning those without batting an eyelash. Pity was not granted to a single soul. Soldiers, children, elderly, they were all a source for it’s gluttonous desires. Many people managed to escape the clutches of death, but most did not go unscathed.  
   
With Clarke, Raven, and Abby in tow, Jake lead them to the nearest exit where soldiers ushered people into large trucks and evacuate to another military base. They were close, so close to making their escape, but a soldier, no, a geek reached out to grab Jake’s leg from its position on the ground. Its teeth sunk deep into the flesh on Jake’s leg, and the scream erupting from his lips would go on to echo in Clarke’s brain like a broken record.  
   
They tried to save him, but it was too late. The last thing he told Clarke before they were pried away from him by soldiers, was to “find the cabin.” The cabin in which Clarke and her father would go to hunt every year.  
   
And that was the last time she ever saw her father, or the military base they called home for two months, or a majority of the children she would see every day when she showed up for work. It was all gone, and all Clarke could do was stare at the tear stained faces knowing that hers was no different.  
   
They drove out of Louisiana, through southern Mississippi, and into Alabama where the nearest military base that had enough space for them resided. Things weren’t so different from the last base. The same system was implemented, and they were given the same jobs, same food, and same living quarters.  
      
Although everything was the same, Clarke, Abby, and Raven weren’t. Neither of them could look the others in the eyes for weeks, or speak more than they had to. Jake’s death loomed over them, haunting them every day. He had been the one to make everything easier, to make them feel like the dead were barely walking or bending people to their knees and forcing them to join their massive army.  
      
But Clarke kept a little piece of Jake close to her chest at night to alleviate the terrors sleep brought. She wore his watch every day, every hour, and every second. There wasn’t a moment in which his watch left her presence.  
      
She was able to track the days with it, noting how many days have passed since his last word and breath. One week, two weeks, three weeks. When the one month anniversary of his untimely demise rolled around, Clarke uttered his name for the first time since.  
   
    It wasn’t long, but it was simple. As simple as five words. “Jake died a month ago” was all she murmured to her mother and Raven in the dining hall over a miniscule dinner, which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as the days rolled by. Neither of them responded, because what was there to say?  
   
    But Clarke ever so cautiously brought up her father a few more times. She wanted to talk about him, to remember him in every single way, because she could feel her memories of him slipping away. Each day threatened to take away the good times she had with him, and when Abby and Raven reluctantly indulged her desperation, she took to writing them down.  
   
    She wrote with detail, sometimes creating little illustrations next to her words, and every so often did a tear stain the pages of her journal. Whenever she had a bad day, she would result to the journal and remember everything. Everything that made her happy again.  
   
    It seemed to do wonders for her mental health, somehow. She was determined to keep her father alive vicariously through her actions. Whenever she was forced to make a hard decision, like choosing to teach children self defence and combat skills, or to teach children the traditional education like math, english, and science, she pondered over the possible pros and cons of each.  
   
    Most soldiers and conservative residence proposed that classes in survival instincts and combat skills be the prioritized course of education. “It would teach kids how to survive in every condition” a military general suggested, imposing the main goal be encouraging the kids to be prepared to fight to survive. Brute force would ultimately beat out the geeks. Traditional classes wouldn’t teach them how to power through a sticky situation.  
      
But most women and liberals suggested that it was better to stick with the traditional state education standards. Boot camp would lower the outcome of continuing a clear sense of traditional fighting styles, and lower the production of intelligence in which utilizes past-world resources that are already available. A mother stated that “It [fighting to survive] would eradicate possible advances in technology” and that “previous teachings would result in sounder strategies with passive lifestyles” before introducing that traditional teaching methods would reevolve civilization back to its prime at a quicker pace. Knowledge would outsmart the geeks.  
      
Of course, Clarke believed that both were essential. She found the middle ground, like Jake would have, and proposed a schedule that incorporated both teachings. It was a battle to get people to compromise with her proposal, since morals fought against teaching children how to kill at their tender age and realism fought to prove traditional teachings wouldn’t keep the children safe, but her proposal prevailed in the end.  
      
The military hierarchy agreed to shift Clarke’s job position from daycare lady to teacher after she purposed a class she called Earth Skills 101, in memory of her father, and she lead this class alongside a military man named Bellamy Blake.  
      
Bellamy was a tall man with dark curly brunette locks and a build that could withstand fickle weather conditions. His devilish looks composed of a chiseled jawline, limped brown eyes, and bright white smile that could charm even snakes. Clarke’s inner artist swooned at the man’s greek god-like appearance, but was grounded by his arrogance and utter disregard as an equal educator. He often took over lectures and left Clarke to go around and help kids fill out the homework he would hand out to them. She eventually got fed up with his disrespect and snapped at him, explaining that her father’s teachings would inform the children on how to live properly off the land than his worst case scenarios that often sounded outlandish. She was such a force to reckon that not even his slick influence could waver her ambition.  
      
Bellamy yielded to Clarke’s stubbornness, allowing her to take a more active roll with the children. She taught with a slow, engaging pace that the children shined brighter and brighter each day. He eventually apologized to her for being so dismissive and suggested they bury the past and grow a healthier relationship in its place, which she agreed to. If someone told her that one day she and Bellamy would hold a bond tighter than a nun’s gee, she would have brushed it off and insisted her disbelief in his ability to change.  
   
    They bonded quickly over goofy stories of past hunting and fishing trips during lunch breaks, and trust began to kindle. When they ran out of game hunting stories, they told goofy childhood memories. When they ran out of childhood stories, they shared high school memories. They went from being friendly coworkers to friends who hung out during their free time.  
   
    It was through Bellamy did she meet a friend of his named Finn Collins, clad with military fatigues and a suave that made her swoon. In no way did Clarke think that she, with the word ending and all, would ever see her libido again. With his polished brunette locks curtained over his puppy dog eyes, and a trademark smirk always dawning his lips, Clarke swooned. His deep laugh and charming tongue sent her heart aflutter.  
   
    Clarke’s flourishing relationships with Bellamy, Finn, and Raven fogged up the window into reality, and she seemed to forget the dead roaming about on the other side. Neither of them noticed the decrease in food and population until Finn and Bellamy neglected to show up to lunch one day. For three days the men remained missing until they reappeared at the lunch table with pale faces and absent gazes.  
   
    They explained that their disappearance was linked to the lack of food being rationed out. Resources were no longer being imported, and radio silence stretched across the entire grid. In order to keep mouths fed, the military discreetly chose soldiers to brave the outside world in secrecy for the past month to gather what food they could. They went as far as kicking out civilians without friends and family to decrease food demand.  
   
    Enraged by the secrecy, Clarke took to politics by storm. She ousted everything to the public and unrest began to fester. People began protesting the tyrannical reign of Sergeant Major Thelonious Jaha. Fights broke out as civilians rough housed and discriminated against the soldiers, and so much ruckus was made that the geeks began to appear in bigger intervals.  
   
    Fear incompased every citizen and soldier, and greed gnawed on their stomachs. The dining hall became a war zone as people fought over food. People stopped showing up to their job stations in protest to the reign and shoved past Clarke’s attempts to ignite their rational thought. Fear was too powerful for her to defeat.  
   
    Clarke never expected things to end up this way. She told herself every day that it was the right thing to do, that people deserved to know what was going on behind closed doors, but the violence she witnessed every day tore at the insecurity. She had believed the goodness in people’s heart would prevail. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been an outlandish thing to assume in the old world, but the old world died and raised from the grave to it’s now primitive state. This world was no longer man’s, having been usurped by the unforgiving Mother Nature, and Clarke realized she needed a reality check or she won’t survive.  
   
    By the time Clarke figured out that the state of the military base would only continue to erode and fall apart, a soldier shot one of the protesters who threw a rock at him, and it was as if someone had opened the cage to a lion den. Hell broke free from the earth and consumed the enraged hearts. People died, people cried, and people came back to feed on their friends.  
   
    Clarke was no exception.  
   
    Among the mass of chaos, Clarke searched for her mother and Finn with Bellamy and Raven in tow. They were determined to make their escape together, but sometimes plans didn’t work out the way they were supposed to.  
   
    Upon entering the medical tent in which Abby worked, something felt off. It was quiet, and the absence of beeping heart rate monitors prompted Bellamy to enter first. The barrel of his rifle poked past the tent flaps. They were greeted with vacancy, or so they thought, and neither of them noticed the little beads of blood coating the floor.  
   
    They cautiously pushed back a few curtains surrounding the cots to find each space empty. They pushed further into the tent until they reached the last one and found Abby lying on the floor clutching her lacerated neck. She had hid under the cot when a geek entered, but it found her and thus tore her neck open. Luckily she had a scalpel in her hand, and the turned body of none other than Thelonious Jaha rested a few inches away with said medical instrument buried in his forehead.  
   
    “I love you, Clarke” She had gurgled out to her weeping child. “Live” was the last word she uttered before Raven dragged Clarke out of the tent kicking and screaming for her mother like an infant. The sharp crack and boom of Bellamy’s rifle stilled the desperate sobbs erupting from Clarke, and she grew quiet as shock set in.  
   
    Clarke didn’t remember much after that. Her adrenaline set in, and her mind fought to forget what she saw. All she could recall was Raven dragging her across the war torn military base to where Finn fought with another person over his rifle. They narrowly escaped the chaos with backpack full of whatever belongings they needed, and headed in an unknown direction.  
   
    Instead of giving herself time to grieve her mother, Clarke resumed her position as leader. Nobody had a clue as to where they were going to go, or what they were going to do. None of them had to survive like this before, having been sheltered by the military for months. So Clarke took it upon herself to keep them moving.  
   
    Food was scarce, and a proper night’s sleep was just as rare. They spent nights at abandoned houses, which were picked clean by scavengers. Their aimless wandering drove each other towards the brink of mental instability until Bellamy purposed they traveled into Mississippi and move on from Alabama. Nobody opposed the idea, since there was no other direction that seemed more appealing.  
   
    Of course, Clarke knew there was more to Bellamy’s plan than he was sharing. He had told Clarke of a sister he cared much for, but his parents filed for divorce and split them apart when he was 17 and she was 15. By the way he talked about his little sister, Clarke could tell that they had a strong bond, forged by years of dealing with their quarrelling parents. Clarke didn’t have the heart to tell Bellamy that the likelihood of his sister still residing in his childhood home was slim to none. The sparkle in his eye was too precious to tarnish. It made life more than just surviving.  
   
    In a matter of days they crossed the Mobile River of Alabama and crossed the state border into Mississippi. They avoided the larger cities and kept their distance away from highways. Geeks were sure to be lurking at every corner in the big cities, and the highways ran too much risk in bumping into other people. Not having spent enough time outside of the military base, neither of them knew whether or not the people who had survived by themselves since the beginning were trustworthy. Every precaution was not to be taken as a grain of salt. In no way would this world forgive them for making a mistake.  
   
    But for a moment, Bellamy forgot how to be cautious, and the impatience to reach his childhood home clouded his judgement. They reached the edge of De Soto National Forest and he insisted that they go through it rather than around it. Clarke reasoned for the ladder, but Bellamy wouldn’t hear it. His stubbornness matched hers for once.  
   
    Finn sided with Clarke, reasoning that it wouldn’t be wise to trudge through the terrain. Raven sided with Bellamy saying that the forest would give them more cover, and that the difficult terrain would be even more problematic for the geeks. The argument volleyed back and forth until Bellamy had enough and surged into the forest without a second thought.  
   
    They stopped halfway through the forest by a pond swelled by the previous night’s rainfall and refilled their water bottles. Finn split off from the group to relieve his bladder, but before he could do so, he caught a glimpse of a campsite. Curiosity lured him towards the encampment, debating whether or not people resided in the tents, or if the residence left a few cans of food.  
   
    One of the tents caved in and looked as if a bear had mauled the weather resistant fabric. The sight of old blood stains sent a shiver down his spine and made his way towards the other tent which stood firm. He cautiously unzipped the door of the tent and glanced inside, hoping that there wasn’t a geek waiting on the other side. To his relief, there were two vacant sleeping bags, but to his disappointment, that’s all there was. No food.  
   
    Instead of retreating back to the rest of the group, he hollered for them. While he waited for them to finish up gathering their things, he continued to investigate the camp. Knowing that Clarke liked to draw, he grabbed a few pieces of charcoal from the pile of ashes where a campfire had been and pocketed it for later. A shuffle from the caved tent drew his attention, and he flinched in fear.  
   
    He drew close to the tent, knowing well that if there was a geek residing inside, it would have moved a lot sooner upon his presence. Instead of unzipping the door, he gave it a little shake. His heart pounded with anticipation to see another shuffle. When nothing happened, he shook it again, and this time, a squirrel darted out from collapsed structure.  
   
    Finn let out a sigh and laughed at himself for overreacting so much. Footsteps approached him, and he turned, ready to tell Clarke of his discoverings. His eyes widened with shock as a geek quickly grabbed him with an iron grip and pulled his arm to its mouth. A vicious blood curdling scream shook through him as the geek’s teeth sunk into his flesh and tore from his frame.  
   
Clarke was the first to reach Finn, and she tugged the geek away from him. Bellamy leapt into the campsite’s clearing, hot on Clarke’s heels. The small knife brandished on his hip unsheathed and found purchase in the geek’s brain, rendering the dead lifeless. Clarke took to Finn’s weeping wound and mustered her best bedside manner. She held him tightly as he sobbed out desperate prayers not to die.  
   
The sky wept along with the whimpering man, taking pity on his reduced state. He didn’t want to die, and everyone wordlessly understood. His fever didn’t set in until nightfall as they took shelter in the tent still standing. His sobbs had quieted by then, and Clarke whispered good memories into his ear. They didn’t share many memories together, having not known each other for more than a month or so, but it did well to distract him from what was happening.  
   
This was the first time Clarke had ever watched someone transition after a bite. She only knew a few key aspects from her mother, like a fever, cold sweats, nausea, and blood shot eyes. It was one thing being told about it, and another to watch the helpless deterioration. It was tragic to watch the infection spread, having grown a deep affection for the man, but Clarke couldn’t let it impact her in that moment. Finn needed her there in his last hours.  
   
The rain stopped as soon as dawn befell the horizon, engulfing the trees and the tent in a warm orange glow. Finn was on his last few breaths, and his aching body barely managed to pull the small pebbles of charcoal from his pocket and handed them to Clarke. It was his way of telling them that he was ready for the bullet with his name on it.  
   
Bellamy and Raven gave Clarke and Finn a moment so that they could have their private goodbye. Watching him struggle to form words shattered Clarke’s already broken heart, and for the first time since her mother's death did she weep. She croaked out her final words to him and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his cracked lips. When they were finished, Bellamy and Raven reentered and said their goodbyes.  
   
Raven gave a fond goodbye, not usually one to shed tears, but her eyes were puffy as she spoke. Bellamy wrestled with all he wanted to say, but he summed up everything he wanted to say as best as he could, cracking a few jokes to try and lighten the mood even if they only prompted tears to trail down his cheek. They carried Finn out of the clearing, were it all happened, and Bellamy propped him up against a tree. He put his rifle to Finn’s head, but couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.  
   
Clarke pried the gun from Bellamy’s hands, coaxing the man who started bursting at the seams. She knew they saw each other as brothers, and she wanted to be there for Bellamy like he was when her mother was on the verge of death. She closed her eyes, and it was all over in a matter of milliseconds. Finn wasn’t suffering anymore, and that was the only sense of peace she could gather. Not able to dig a grave, they wrapped his body up in one of the sleeping bags, and he looked as if he were just asleep, save for the bullet in the side of his head.  
   
They resumed their travels deeper into Mississippi, not speaking more than they needed to. Their travels were they only thing keeping them going, and they reached Bellamy’s childhood home in two days. Just as Clarke had suspected, Bellamy’s sister was nowhere to be found, but a few pictures were missing from the walls.  
   
Bellamy wasn’t exactly disappointed, but he confessed that he just wanted to know if his mother and sister survived the reckoning day, which is what they called the beginning of all this. He found a picture of him and his sister, folded it, and stuck it in his bag. Once again, they no longer had a plan. Until Clarke spoke up, that is.  
   
She told them about her father’s hunting cabin in the dense forests of Minnesota, having remembered her father’s words after she shot Finn. She spiced up the idea with the fact there were literally hundreds of lakes to fish from and islands they could seclude themselves to. While the winter may be harsh, she figured that the geeks would freeze to death.  
   
The next morning, they gathered their things, as well as a few snacks that Bellamy’s sister hid under her bed, for late night cravings before the reckoning day, and began their journey towards the Mississippi river. The stream would lead them right to where they wanted to go whilst providing a source of food; fish.  
   
They spent a few days traveling towards the Mississippi before arriving. A sense of relief flooded over them as if it were one of the biggest accomplishments they ever achieved, and began traversing the stream carved into the dirt. Raven fashioned them fishing rods from fishing line and hooks found pillaging one of the many houses they passed. She took rather large sticks for the rod, ties on the strings, used a smaller stick as a bobber, and found tiny rocks perfect for sinkers. She called them “Raven’s Rod of Wonders” which prompted inappropriate euphemisms from both Bellamy and Clarke. It was too good not to exploit, especially since there wasn’t much comical relief in this world.  
   
They spent days traversing along the famous river, which probably wouldn’t hold it’s fame throughout future generations, and they neared Vicksburg. They decided they didn’t want to waste time going around the city, since there were only a handful of days left in October, so they cautiously entered with the river to their shoulder.  
   
Vicksburg was as quiet as all the other cities they ventured past, but the silence felt deadly. There wasn’t a second that passed did they let their guard down. It was their first time entering one of the bigger cities, and they were not prepared for the sight they would see.  
   
A few bodies littered the gutters, limbs nibbled on by either rodents or geeks. The smell invaded their lungs and introduced bile to their throats. Cars were either scorched, missing parts, or crashed. Trash covered yards of what were now dead people’s land, and yet, they didn’t cross paths with a geek.  
   
It wasn’t until they ventured deeper in the city did they see a geek bent over the body of a starved dog, munching at the flesh that barely clung to the dog’s frame. If the smell wasn’t enough to make them wretch, this was. After Raven sunk a knife into the geek’s skull, Clarke wandered over to a storm drain dry heaved over it. There was no food in her stomach to release.  
   
When she calmed down, she spat out the acidic taste in her mouth and straightened. With her sleeve, she wiped off the spit from her lips and turned to Bellamy. She called out to him, and when he turned towards her, his eyes grew wide.  
   
“Behind you!” He had shouted. He was too late.  
   
Before Clarke could turn to see what it was that he reference, a force tugged her head back by her long golden locks and bared her throat to the sky. A sharp crack bounced off the abandoned houses, and a geek collapsed on top of Clarke. Disposed to the side, she stood up from the ground to see geeks pouring into the street. The noise of Bellamy’s rifle had stirred the hungry beasts.  
   
They took off as quickly as they could, adrenaline pushing them to go faster. It took only seconds for their path to be blocked, and their feet took them down another route which bustled with more geeks. Bellamy took the butt of his rifle to a window and helped Clarke and Raven into the house. When they went to help Bellamy up, his pants caught on a stray piece of glass jutting up and sliced into his leg. They barely managed to pull him away from the window in time as a geek lapped hungrily on the blood staining the glass.  
   
With haste, they approached the front door, but geeks crowded the outside of it. Terror coursed through Clarke’s veins as they approached a window across from the one they broke into, which now began to overflow with geeks fighting through the small space. Their hungry growls and snapping teeth reminded Clarke of rabid wolves, and oh how frightening it was.  
   
With fewer geeks on this side of the house, they opt to vacate the house and fight off the few geeks clamoring towards them with their boone knives. Their best direction was yet through another window as the geeks realize they were no longer in the house. Cautiously they enter through the window, broken by Raven’s clothed fist, but this time, Bellamy doesn’t make it. His fresh wound was more appealing to the gnashing geeks than the two women inside the house.  
   
Bellamy screamed at them to run, that he would prove as a distraction, but Clarke wouldn’t have it. She tried to climb back out the window to help free him from the geeks, but Raven held her back. There was no saving Bellamy. There were too many.  
   
Raven pushed Clarke towards the window across the room, the area clear of geeks, no doubt headed towards Bellamy’s cries. As they climbed out of the house, the crack of Bellamy’s rifle filtered through the air, and it could only mean one thing. Bellamy had spared himself of the fate staring him dead in the eye.  
   
The street ahead of them seemed to clear as geeks flocked over to the gunshot. Bellamy’s sacrifice spared their lives as they raced down the street as fast as their feet could take them. They raced past houses and stray geeks, lungs ablaze and muscles screaming. Neither wanted to stop. Fear propelled Clarke faster than she had ever run in her life. Luckily they had already been halfway through Vicksburg, so they didn’t have to run a ridiculous amount to reach the safer outskirts.  
   
They drew their feet to a stop in front of a house, in which they checked the perimeter for geeks, and took shelter on it’s second floor. They rested their weary bodies in the master bedroom, and tears fell, sliding down their cheeks like the sweat on their brow. Bellamy was gone now. Once again, Clarke found herself in the stage of denial, just like when her father died, and when her mother died, and when Finn died.  
   
Raven and Clarke sat silently, save for the occasional sob and hiccup, and all Clarke could think about was how people around her seemed to keep dying. It felt wrong to be alive when the people she loved, or still loves, were lying on the cold hard ground. Rotting away. It wasn’t fair.  
   
They spent the night at the house, Raven slumbering away as if Bellamy hadn’t just died, and Clarke drew a conclusion in her sleepless state. The world had spared her one person, Raven, the woman who’s been at her side since Freshman year of college. She couldn’t lose Raven. The death of her oldest friend would kill her, if this world didn’t kill her first.  
   
    Clarke left Raven at the peek of moonrise, leaving only a note in her wake. There was so much that Clarke wanted to write, so much that she had to say, but if she had written everything down, it would look as if she were saying goodbye to a dying soul. This wasn’t a permanent goodbye, she told herself. Raven was a strong, capable woman who was taught how to survive by none other than Jake Griffin. One day they would cross paths again, and the cloud of death following Clarke wouldn’t consume the last living person whom she loved.  
   
    Clarke spent the next few weeks exploring the inner constructs of Mississippi, having given up on the plan to Minnesota. Winter was nearing and there was no way she would survive the harsh winter journey. It was a pipe dream, she had realized, and settled herself at a house near a lake. With Raven’s Rod of Wonders she caught fish and cooked them over a small fire, not wanting to risk a large one drawing geeks.  
   
    Now that she was alone, and stationed at a house she heavily secured with boards, she could finally grieve those she lost. The pieces of charcoal she’d received from Finn for her sketchbook were worn down to tiny pebbles as she drew and recreated the faces haunting her in her dreams. She never wanted to forget what they each looked like. Bellamy’s face was already disappearing from her memory, pulling her down into a void of agony.  
   
    Clarke managed to survive a month like this, teetering over the edge of insanity. The lack of human interaction enclosed her in a pit of darkness. While the solitude allowed her time to grieve, she couldn’t help but yearn for a shoulder to cry on. Conflictions louded her like a storm hanging over, winds clashing as one part screamed for the ambition to find another human being and the other reasoned that they would just die like the others.  
   
    It wasn’t until Raven’s Rod of Wonders snapped while she was fishing one day did she decide to pack up her things and move on north. She didn’t have a particular direction in mind, but she knew well enough not to venture too far north. Fall was coming to a close with winter hot on it’s heels.  
   
    Her journey brought her to a town called Pocahontas. It wasn’t a large town, but the character it held as she passed a few houses spoke volumes on the kind of community it once was. The older houses suggested many generations had once thrived in them. Yards were still littered with children’s toys, cars, and the like. It was unnerving to think about where the children might be, amongst the dead or starving somewhere.  
   
    She ventured deeper into the rural town, and ominous feeling sent a shiver down her spine. The clouds hang heavy overhead which blocked out every sliver of sunlight. She took a moment to watch the dark spongy clouds, imagining what it would be like if she could grab a tuft and ring out the rain.  
   
    A sudden crack off in the distance made her jump, her skin crawling in surprise. A few more pops echoed in the distance like popcorn, and Clarke was dashing forward before thinking. Someone was alive. Someone was in trouble.  
   
    As she got closer to the source, faint red lights shone in the distance. The harsh squeal of tires made her wince as if it were nails on a chalkboard. The riveting engine purred down the street, leaving Clarke in the wake of it’s burnt rubber. When she reached the tire marks, a few geeks splayed on the concrete. She couldn’t figure out why they were in such haste, but the sudden familiar gnashing caught her attention.  
   
    Her azure gaze turned towards the highway which sat only a few yards away from Pocahontas’ main drag. Taken aback by the sudden horde, she turned to run deeper into the rural area, but unfortunately, the gunshots didn’t just attract the geeks at the highway. A rush of deja vu froze her veins and wild eyes looked on desperately for a safe haven.  
   
    Not to far ahead of her was a quaint church, painted white decades ago by the way the paint chipped off the siding planks. Clarke approached quietly, careful not to draw more attention to her than those who already noticed her. With a few jabs to the skull, she was behind the dilapidated door in seconds. As soon as the door clicked, a long sigh erupted from her. She would have to wait out the horde here. Once they realized there was nothing to eat, they would leave.  
   
    For extra protection, Clarke walked over to one of the pews, thankfully not nailed to the floor, and carefully dragged it over to the front door. It wasn’t heavy, having been made with lighter wood decades ago. Once it sat securely against the door, she let out another sigh and took a step back. This would do just fine, she thought.  
   
    Before Clarke could turn around, a small click came from behind her. It was so quiet that she didn’t think she actually heard it. When she turned around, she was met with the angry sheen of a matte beretta pistol. A wave of ice froze her in place, having never stared down the end of a barrel before. Guns were usually pointed at geeks, not other human beings.  
   
    “Who are you?” the gun’s owner asked with a chilling voice. Clarke’s throat bobbed with a gulp as she dared venture her gaze past the metal pointed at the center of her brow. Azure met clouded olive orbs, catching the oxygen in her throat.  
   
    Clarke remained silent, her words failing her effortlessly. The gunman’s knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip with impatience. She asks again who Clarke is, laced with malice and promise to pull the trigger. Her captor’s eyebrow quirked as silence ensued.  
   
    “Clarke,” she began. “Clarke Griffin” she continued to sputter out.  
   
    “Lexa” She responded, unwavering. How long did this woman plan on pointing a gun at Clarke?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oofta okay this was a monster to write, and to be honest I shouldn't even be publishing this, but I am.  
> Thanks for giving me the read! I very much appreciate kudos. They give me a gauge as to whether or not I should continue this. I might be more inclined to publish quicker if I had a beta.  
> If anyone would like to beta for me (pretty please, I need validation to keep writing) please shoot me a message here or to my tumblr @obscene-sunset. You would receive updates of my writing sooner and recognition for your oh-so appreciated chivalry. All I ask is that you at least be 18 and have proper grammar skills.  
> Constructive criticism is much appreciated, and I have no doubt that this chapter will have one or two errors. I didn't really read it over. Contrary to popular belief, I do want to improve my writing skills. I just too lazy to read it.  
> 


	2. Suspended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6,197  
> Chapter Rating: Mature for a few reasons.
> 
> This chapter includes suicide, which is something that I forgot to include mentioning at the beginning of the story. If it's not something you're comfortable with, then I suggest not reading further.

  The last time Clarke ever stepped foot in a church was when she was thirteen years old. She doesn’t remember much of the things the pastors would say every sunday. Most of it was far too intricately worded for her young mind to understand, and thus voiced her distaste in attending. It didn’t help that their pastor spoke broken english, either, having been transferred from another country.   
   
    Jake and Abby didn’t push Clarke to accept catholicism. In fact, Abby was an atheist. They mutually agreed to introduce Clarke to the religion, not to necessarily transform her into an avid worshiper, but to teach her values. Indeed, it taught her a few things, but like most humans and backwards christians, she ended up being selective in her morals. She was often hypocritical in telling her friends at lunch that they shouldn’t covet her father’s famous chocolate chip cookies made specially for her, whilst grilling one of her tablemates for the fries on their plate.   
   
    Around the time she ceased her attendance, she was beginning the early stages of puberty. There was a girl in her grade named Annie who equated to the blissful radiance of an orchid blooming in a flower patch. To put it simply, she adored Annie the same way she adored boys. She asked her pastor during confessionals about it, and since their community leaned more towards conservative on the spectrum, told her that it was just a phase and that it was a “sin in the eyes of god.” Being at an extremely impressionable age, she took his words to heart and stopped talking to Annie all together.   
   
    It wasn’t until Annie approached her after a week of silence and asked if she did something to hurt Clarke’s feelings. Afraid of the reaction she got from the pastor, Clarke lashed out with a pathetic excuse she couldn’t bother remembering. The heartbroken look on Annie’s face, after being so close since first grade, sent Clarke home crying into the arms of her father. It was then he decided they would no longer attend church, and he told her that it was okay to love who she wanted to. “Love conquers all” he had told her while she sobbed into the shoulder of his favorite blue flannel shirt.  
   
    Clarke and Annie never rekindled their friendship, but during their senior year of high school, they reconnected at a party where Clarke was getting high in a stoner ring and Annie was drinking too much UV Blue Vodka. They made out for five minutes in a dark corner until Annie threw up on her. Graduation rolled around, and they never saw each other again except through social media.  
   
    But now here Clarke was, lying in a pew, staring at the ceiling, and reminiscing her early years. It was quiet, save for the occasional grunt outside from geeks and the incessant clicking of Lexa’s disassembling and reassembling of her beretta.  
   
    “Did you ever go to church?” Clarke suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had ensued between them since Lexa had lowered her pistol. She turned to the woman sitting in the center of the isle with gun parts littering her space. In a way, Lexa reminded Clarke of Annie. Not personality wise, but they shared a few physical attributes. The tightly woven plaits of her raw umber locks resembled the ones Annie would show up to school with.   
   
    “No” Lexa replied, neglecting elaborate further. Clarke gave her a lame look, not that she would notice it, and rolled her eyes at the blatant shut down of small talk. Clarke knew it was a long shot. Lexa was clearly a guarded woman, but Clarke didn’t think she was that guarded.   
   
    Only a half hour ago were they standing at the entrance of the church. Clarke stood with the back of her knees against the pew she’d pushed against the door, and Lexa only a few paces away with a gun pointed at the center of her brow. After Lexa had asked Clarke who she was, she proceeded to question Clarke further. She’s asked Clarke if she killed anyone, which she hasn’t. She also asked if Clarke was with anyone, which she wasn’t. After that, Lexa uncocked the intimidating beretta and said something about having to wait out the horde together. It’s been silent between them until now.  
   
    “Have you killed anyone?” Clarke asked, deciding to hold Lexa to the same criteria. This time, Lexa paused her movements as if to think about it. It unnerved her that Lexa had to think about it.   
   
    “Just the ones that gave me no choice” She responded, refusing to look up from her half assembled gun. And just like that, she continued reconstructing the beretta.  
   
    Clarke had prepared herself to hear a lie, that Lexa would say no after having to think about it, because who has to think about whether or not they killed someone? Regardless, Lexa’s honesty didn’t bring any sense of settlement to Clarke’s discomfort. She thinks that, perhaps, she shouldn’t have asked Lexa that. If she hadn’t, she would have just been mildly uncomfortable, and not anxious like she was now.  
   
    “Can you maybe clarify that?” Clarke gulped, sitting up from the pew. Her guard was up now.   
   
    “They shot first, I shot last” Lexa responded, finally looking up from her gun. It was now fully assembled. Clarke liked her more when her gun was scattered on the floor.   
   
    Lexa was definitely the silent brooding type, Clarke figured. She was a woman with little words and a thick aura of intimidation. The look in her olive green eyes was dark, no doubt shrouded by the haunting of her past. The hardness of her brow and the sharpness of her cheekbones radiated a sense of power. Whether it be physically or charismatically, Clarke couldn’t deduce.   
   
    Lexa went back to disassembling her beretta for what feels like the millionth time, and Clarke takes a moment to size her up.  
   
    Lexa dawns a black knitted sweater with a folded over turtleneck that clung to her toned arms and accented her curves perfectly. She wore military issued trousers and boots to match, prompting Clarke to question whether or not Lexa was ex military. The little voice of doubt in the back of her mind said that Lexa could have just taken them off of a dead soldier. If so, it was a creepy thought. Clarke couldn’t imagine taking off a dead man’s boots and pants.  
   
    “Because you were in the military? Like the Iraq War” Clarke wondered out loud, but with the expectancy of a response. Lexa let out a long sigh before looking up from her gun to meet Clarke’s gaze. Her brow quirked up with an annoyance similar to a king’s disinterest in his jester’s terrible jokes.  
   
    “Relax, Clarke” She began, clicking her tongue sharply on the blonde’s name. “If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation” Lexa didn’t sound as comforting as Clarke would have liked. She sounded just as annoyed as her brow suggested.  
   
    “I’m not scared of you” Clarke stated boldly, squaring her jaw and mirroring Lexa’s annoyed brow quirk. Lexa struggled to hold back a scoff and Clarke’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t scared, really. Just uncomfortable.  
   
    Lexa didn’t find Clarke’s declaration worthy of a response, and frankly, Clarke was getting annoyed with the brunettes disregard. Unfortunately for her, the sun was descending and the horde still crowded the streets, so she couldn’t just up and leave. She really wanted to, though. Lexa wasn’t very good company. She may have been lonely for the past month, but perhaps fate brought her to this church with Lexa for a reason. It was fate telling her that she didn’t need people after all.  
   
    Maybe Lexa wasn’t real. Perhaps it was just Clarke finally going insane, and Lexa was a figment of her imagination. It didn’t seem outlandish, at first. Clarke then went on to realize that, if she did go insane, her mind would have at least conjured someone more interesting than Lexa. Maybe less intimidating, as well. For a moment, she entertained the thought of Wilson, from Cast Away, being better company than Lexa, even if he was just a volleyball.   
   
    “I was, by the way” Lexa suddenly said, pausing her movements and sucking Clarke out of her outlandish thoughts. The blonde furrowed her brow in confusion, not quite sure what she was referring to. “Apart of the military, I mean”  
   
    “Oh” was all Clarke managed to say. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond. At least Lexa wasn’t some creep who stole military clothes from a dead body. Perhaps this was Lexa trying to hold small talk.  
   
    “And the Iraq War ended in 2011. Perhaps you meant the Afghanistan War” Lexa continued, her olive orbs meeting Clarke’s azure.  
    
    “Guess I just got them confused” Clarke responded with a shrug. “Sorry, I never really paid much attention to politics”  
    
    “That’s fine. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore” Lexa replied, her eyes drifting from Clarke’s. They rested on her ensemble of clothes, a ragged blue sweater and holey jeans. Clarke couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at her weathered clothes, not that it mattered as much, as Lexa stated. Clarke was trying to survive in this world, and it just wasn’t possible without getting dirt under her nails.  
    
    “You think things will ever go back to the way they were?” Clarke asked, curious as to what Lexa say. She pegged Lexa for a realist.  
    
    “Maybe one day” She responded, and with that, she turned back to her gun. Clarke couldn’t help the small twinge of surprise that reached her brow. Lexa sounded a little different, like there was a tiny speck of hope in her infliction.  
   
-    
   
    Two hours had passed since their conversation, and Clarke was getting more restless with each second that ticked away on her father’s watch. She would usually take out her journal and add a sketch or two, but she only had a few pages left - the product of her month alone - and didn’t want to waste them on the boring view the chapel gave. That, and the sun was meeting the horizon. The world would be dark soon, and unfinished works were Clarke’s pet peeve.  
   
    She eventually stood up from the pew she’d laid claim to, and came to the conclusion that she would explore all that the dilapidated church had to offer. She made her way past Lexa — who had stopped messing with her gun, to Clarke’s relief — and approached the door behind the altar. With a loud creak that made Clarke cringe, the door swung open. It was foolish to assume that the geeks outside would hear it the protesting hinges, but anxiety often made people think foolish things.  
   
    The room was dark due to the absence of electricity and windows, but Clarke divulged deeper into the room even if she couldn’t tell how big the room was. The door was left ajar to illuminate whatever stood in the wake of it’s light, and eerie feeling prompted a shiver to rattle up her spine. The room seemed to drop temperature as she pressed further. A rank smell crawled up to her nose and she crinkled it in disgust. She opted to breathing through her mouth, though she swore she could taste the musty air.   
   
    Shadows bended around only a handful of objects, including many candle holders, chalices, and the like. The dim light of the descending sun only casted enough light to make out the rough shape of a tall candle standing proudly next to empty candlesticks. With a sigh of relief, Clarke approached the candle. Soon, the room wouldn’t be as creepy as it felt in this darkened state.  
   
    She produced a butane lighter from her pocket, and as she leaned in to light the candle, a creek from behind caught her attention. She whipped around, telling herself that it was probably just Lexa coming to see what she was doing, but there was no Lexa. There was no anything.  
   
    Suddenly more unnerved than before, Clarke reached for her knife. Son of a bitch, she thought. Her knife was currently sitting by her bag, rendering her unarmed. Determined not to die in a church, Clarke grasped one of the candleless candlesticks and held it up defensively. She bore wild eyes into the darkness, as if she were suddenly able to acquire the power of night vision, and her knuckles grew white with anticipation. The blood in her ears roared as she focused on listening for more movement, prompting her heart to pound harder against her ribs.  
   
    “Clarke”  
   
    The said blonde jumped with surprise, blindly swinging the candlestick towards the culprit who uttered her name. The momentum of her swing came to a sudden halt as a rather strong grasp caught her wrist. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making the fast thud in her chest begin to hurt in it’s persistence.  
   
    “Woah there,” Lexa’s voice was low and calm. “It’s just me. Are you okay?”  
   
    Clarke blinked a few times, taking in the sight of Lexa standing before her. A loud sigh of relief erupted from her as she placed the candlestick back where it once was and leaned against the wall to support her weak knees. With a hand over her heart, Clarke willed the fast throbbing down to a dull pattering. She couldn’t help the dirty glare she shot Lexa.   
   
    “Didn’t your mommy teach you not to sneak up on people?” snapped Clarke venomously. If it weren’t Lexa, she wouldn’t be on the brink of a heart attack right now.  
   
    “Sorry, I didn’t realize” Lexa responded, her eyes narrowing and brow hardening. She didn’t seem to find Clarke funny even though the blonde wasn’t trying to be. “Next time I’ll be louder, just for you”  
   
    “Whatever” Clarke rolled her eyes at Lexa and pushed herself off the wall. Suddenly not alone, Clarke’s shoulders relaxed as Lexa’s presence proves to be reassuring. If a geek were to suddenly appear, Clarke would simply push Lexa in front of it. Revenge, she saw it as, for almost scaring her to death.   
   
    Lexa’s death would be a complete waste, though, Clarke thought. She couldn’t deny the brunette woman’s beauty even if she were forced to lie about it with a gun to her head. The end of the world did nothing to dent her pretty face. Perhaps if she hadn’t almost killed Clarke with a heart attack, she wouldn’t be debating whether or not Lexa would make good geek fodder.  
   
    This time Clarke made no delay in lighting the candle — which now flickered with life — and bounced it’s light throughout the room. She turned back to Lexa, who seemed to be staring past Clarke with a glint of surprise. The blonde furrowed her brow and turned to see what Lexa was gawking at.  
   
    Clarke’s jaw dropped. The gasp that usually followed suit caught in her throat. Her stomach churned at the sight which befell her eyes, and acid replaced the breath she’d been holding. This was the first time she’d seen someone like this. Someone who wasn’t strong enough to see the world turn into what it is now.  
   
    Tied and suspended from one of the many planks reaching across the ceiling, to offer support, was a limp body. Judging by his clothes, he had been a priest, save for the pack of cigarettes poking out of his pocket. Clarke should have know it smelled off in this room, but so often was she surrounded by the smell of death. She hadn’t thought anything of it.  
   
    His death didn’t look like a pleasant one, but it was hard to discern with the state of decomposition he was in. He’d likely done this before the reckoning day, which meant he’d been there for months. Nobody had found him until now.  
   
    By the looks of it, his death had been long and painful. He had the misfortune of not breaking his neck, which lead to the suffering of asphyxiation and many other symptoms along the line of cutting circulation off at the neck. The dead wide eyes showed signs of burst capillaries, and the small indentations of claw marks around the taught rope documented his suffering.  
   
    “We should cut him down” Lexa suddenly spoke, startling Clarke out of her engrossed state. It was then Clarke noticed that she’d subconsciously latched on to Lexa’s wrist, much like she had done with Raven when she was scared. Clarke quickly released her iron grip from Lexa, who thankfully didn’t acknowledge it, and the brunette made her way over to the suspended priest.  
   
    Lexa grabbed the chair kicked from under the priest and stationed it behind him. Clarke watched as Lexa climbed up and took out a military grade knife from her pocket. The rope frayed as she sliced, and the body crashed to the ground, making Clarke wince. The look on Lexa’s face seemed unaffected, making Clarke think that she’d probably done something like this before.  
   
    Lexa then stepped down from the chair and turned to one of the closets. Clarke took a position next to her to light up the closet as she pulled out one of the priest’s robes. Clarke couldn’t will herself to look at the dead man, so she focused on the closet with further inspection. There was a tin located on one of the shelves to the side of the robes. She lifted the top and revealed what she recognized as the body of christ but molded with a potent stench. She placed the top back on the tin to save her stomach from it’s fate, and shined the flame on the shelf below where the blood of christ sat, corked and full of red alcohol.  
   
    Ready to share her findings with Lexa, Clarke turned to say something but paused when Lexa straightened up. The robe she’d grabbed was now placed carefully over the dead priest’s bulging eyes. At the distance they were, Clarke couldn’t see the color in Lexa’s gaze well enough, but the crease in her brow made Clarke believe that she’d been impacted after all.   
   
    “Find something?” Lexa asked, meeting her gaze.  
   
    “Uh yeah, kinda” Clarke responded, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Fancy a glass?” she asked, sloshing the liquid around in the bottle. Lexa took a step further into the light and pressed her lips in thought. She looked about ready to decline.  
   
    “Yeah, I guess I could use a drink” Lexa replied after a sigh of defeat. After glancing at the dead body one more time, Clarke concluded that she wanted to forget.  
   
    They vacated the room after procuring a pair of matching chalices and closed the door behind them, hoping that it would leave the memory behind as well. Lexa sat where she was earlier, and Clarke moved to sit next to Lexa with the side of a pew as her backrest. She handed the bottle over to Lexa for her to open and placed the candle in the center of the floor. By now the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the church had grown ominously darker.  
   
    They sat quietly, sipping occasionally on their wine. Lexa thankfully hadn’t brought up how Clarke had clung to her wrist, and in return, Clarke didn’t ask whether or not Lexa had done something like that before. They simply sat, sipped, and worked to forget what they’d just witnessed.   
   
    Oddly, it wasn’t as awkward as before. Clarke wasn’t sure if she’d just gotten used to being awkward in Lexa’s space, or if they’d actually grown more comfortable with each other. Perhaps it was just Clarke who was uncomfortable before, and Lexa was just fine. The brunette was probably used to being around strangers, which prompted a sudden curiosity.  
   
    “I never asked if you were alone” Clarke stated behind her chalice. “I ran over here because I heard a car. You weren’t alone, were you?” she asked, suddenly remembering the events that brought her to the church in the first place.   
   
    “You’re right, I wasn’t” Lexa replied honestly, but her tone stood neutral. She met Clarke’s eyes as she took another sip of wine. Judging by how much she tipped her chalice, it was almost empty. She seemed to be consuming her wine quicker than Clarke. Maybe the dead priest really did get to Lexa more than she figured.  
   
    “And they just left without you?” Clarke asked, raising her eyebrow. Perhaps she was being nosey, but she didn’t think much harder about it.  
   
    “I suppose that’s how it looks. Unfortunately I don’t know anything past that. I was in here when I heard the gunshots. Next thing I know, I’m stuck here with you” Lexa replied, choosing to give Clarke a better answer than what the blonde expected. There wasn’t any spite in her voice as she spoke, much to Clarke’s relief, but she threw the chalice back and gulped the remaining red nectar.  
   
    They hadn’t drank too much wine yet, but mixing alcohol with dehydration and starvation may not have been the best idea. Clarke could feel the heat grow in her cheeks as her azure eyes boldly explored Lexa’s features. If Clarke were a sculptor, Lexa would be the perfect model. Unfortunately for her, Clarke was the worst sculptor ever and could never do Lexa the justice she deserved.  
   
    “Why are you alone, Clarke?” Lexa suddenly asked, and Clarke quirked her eyebrow. She hid her scoff behind her chalice and took a long gulp.  
   
    “Being alone is easier” Clarke responded and refused to elaborate. Some nights she regretted leaving Raven. It wasn’t the wisest decision she’d ever made, but she wasn’t wrong when she said that being alone was easier. There were fewer deaths she’d cry about, and not knowing what happened to Raven was easier to live with than waking up from nightmares of her death.  
   
    “I suppose. Love is weakness” Lexa nodded, staring pensively at the front door. Clarke’s eyebrows raised in surprise before shrugging it off. She should have figured Lexa would say something like that.  
   
    “Who died to make you think that?” Clarke asked suddenly, wincing after she said it. She didn’t intend for it to sound so blunt and insensitive. It sounded a lot better in her head, but maybe that was the wine talking.  
   
    Clarke felt herself gulp when Lexa’s eyes met hers. They narrowed and her lips pressed in thought. If Clarke were to procure any superpower in this moment, it would be to read minds. She wanted to know desperately what was going on in this mysterious woman’s mind, even if all she might hear was elevator music. Because if she knew what Lexa was thinking, then maybe she wouldn’t be struggling to meet those dark olive eyes.  
   
    “I think,” Lexa began, her voice low. “That it’s none of your business, Clarke” she continued, emphasizing the K sharply. Lexa’s harsh tone felt like a cold front slapping the blonde across the face and sending them back to the level of discomfort they were at before.   
   
    Clarke was now painfully aware of how much of a stranger Lexa actually was. She hadn’t given it much thought before, but now it was clearer than the light of day. Lexa didn’t want anything to do with Clarke. It was stupid to think anything else.  
   
    So they sat quietly, two strangers much different from the other, with a chalice in their hand and a belly warmed with wine. Clarke sloshed the wine in her glass, watching the way the liquid swirled in the light of the candle, and Lexa had that same pensive look aimed at the front door. This time, something was different. Lexa was chewing on her full bottom lip, and the look in her eyes fought something.  
   
    “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” Lexa suddenly asked, stepping in the wave of quiet that washed over them. Clarke looked up sharply from her chalice, furrowing her brow and readying her response, but green clashed with blue in a ferocity that quieted Clarke.  
   
    “You don’t seem to think very much. If you did, you would have ran the opposite way when you heard the gunshots, or taken your knife with when you decided to play explorer” Lexa rasped, placing her chalice down next to her. She wasn’t shouting or anything, but the low register in her voice teetered off the edge of spine-chilling.  
   
    Lexa stood to her feet and turned away from Clarke, pulling out a pack of American Spirit cigarettes and placing one between her lips. Clarke stood a second after hearing the spark of a lighter. Her blood had begun to boil as she registered what Lexa had just said. She had no right to judge Clarke. They were strangers.  
   
    “And you don’t seem to care much about anything, do you?” Clarke snapped. Lexa pivoted on her heels with that same look in her eyes. This time, Clarke would not let it stare her down.  
   
    “You didn’t seem to care much when you were left here by your friend, or much more about the priest than his cigarettes. I know that those were in his pocket. How’s it feel to smoke a dead man’s cigarette?” Clarke continued, trying her best to make a case. She wasn’t going to let Lexa treat her like she didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t stupid.  
   
    “The world isn’t full of pretty flowers and butterflies anymore, Clarke. Learn, adapt, survive, that’s how it is. I didn’t survive this long by crying over spilled milk” Lexa replied with smoke from her cigarette spilling from each word and that same, bone-chilling, low register. If Clarke wasn’t clutching her fists at an attempt not to slap Lexa, she would have thought the woman’s tone was somewhat arounsing.  
   
    “You don’t think I know that?” Clarke snapped, taking a step towards Lexa. “I’ve lost every single person that I loved, yet here I am, not as dead as I wish I was” another step. “And they don’t have to see what I see anymore. They don’t have to see how ugly people have become” another step, tipping over Lexa’s chalice.  
   
    “That’s survival” Lexa reiterated, unwavering.  
   
    “Fuck survival!” Clarke snapped. She couldn’t tell if the heat in her face was from anger or the wine. “Life is about more than just surviving”  
   
    “Then why are you alone, Clarke?” Lexa asked, bringing the blonde to a halt. It hit something within the her, and Lexa knew it.  
   
    It felt as if Lexa took a pair of scissors to Clarke’s most prized charcoal drawing. Her azure eyes flickered as she registered Lexa’s words and took a step back after realizing how close she’d gotten in her fury. With her last bout of anger, Clarke snatched the cigarette from Lexa and propped it between her own lips as if it were Lexa’s reason for holding her end of the argument so well.  
   
    “Because it’s easier” Clarke mumbled, turning away from Lexa. In the corner of her eye she could see Lexa shaking her head.  
   
    “Because it’s surviving” Lexa stated, debunking Clarke’s statement.  
   
    Clarke glanced at Lexa again, blue meeting green, and the fire was gone from her eyes. She wanted to fight back, to prove to Lexa that there was more to life than fighting for it, but the small seed of doubt planted within kept her jaw wired shut. It wasn’t Lexa she was trying to prove it to anymore. It was herself.  
   
    The blonde sat back in the spot she was against the pew and stared into the darkness. The smoke poured from her mouth and nose and drifted into her vision. It was calming to watch the wisps flutter into her view, bringing her hammering heart down to a dull pounding. She willed her thoughts away and focused only on the feeling of her lungs filling with smoke. Right now, it was the closest thing to death that she could bring.  
   
    For a month Clarke had fooled herself into believing that she was living. For a month she’d convinced herself that leaving Raven was for the best. But all she did for a month was wake up, drink something, eat something, and spend her quiet time grieving and drawing. She came to realize, with a cigarette in one hand, and a chalice of wine in the other, was that she had no clue what life was anymore. She had one before the reckoning day, she had one at the first military base, and she had one at the second. But after that?  
   
    Life was Finn, a man she’d loved at her time at the second military base, but he was dead. Life was Bellamy, a man she could connect with on a level no other could, and he was dead. And Life was Raven, her college roomate during her freshman year as a med student and the loyalest person who stuck by Clarke’s side as the world ended, and Clarke left her. Clarke left her last notion of what life was.  
   
    “Yeah. Alright, fine” Clarke began, her voice cracking with defeat. “I’m alone because it’s easier to survive” She continued, meeting Lexa’s olive gaze with misty eyes. But a tear never fell. Clarke may have been stubborn, and rarely did anyone hold enough power to suppress her passion, but never would she give anyone the satisfaction of witnessing her fall. Pride was her swan song in the defeat of her tenacious belief.  
   
But of course, Lexa remained unphased. How could Clarke expect any different? Her stoic face was almost insulting. Wasn’t this what she wanted? To break Clarke?   
   
Clarke struggled not to scoff hysterically. She tore her gaze away from Lexa’s emotionless gaze and chugged the last drops of wine. They slid down her throat with ease and took a few more puffs of what tasted like really stale tobacco. She tossed it somewhere in the church as the cherry began to burn the filter. Normally she would have just put it out beside her, but nothing mattered anymore, just as Lexa had said earlier in the first half hour of this prison.  
   
And so, within the hour — which Clarke tracked on her father’s watch — the bottom of the wine bottle had been reached through the equal effort of both Clarke and Lexa. Clarke was hot, really hot, at the heavy effects of wine being consumed without food to soak some of it up. She stared up at the ceiling after finding a more comfortable position lying on the floor, and her mind was devoid of everything except her shaking vision. She was afraid to think of anything but.  
   
Lexa was in a similar position on the floor, but she stared at the candle rather than the ceiling. A considerable amount had melted to the point that the wax began dripping on the dilapidated wooden floor. Clarke glanced every once in a while, to see if maybe Lexa had fallen asleep, but every time she did, Lexa’s olive eyes would meet her azure ones.   
   
Clarke glanced at Lexa a few more times before the silence was suddenly too loud, and she just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard she willed it. She glanced at Lexa, waiting for her to look back, and when she did, Clarke began to feel her resolve waver. Their silence had ensued for three long hours, and she was about to break it.  
   
They held contact for a bit, the words lingering on Clarke’s lips, awaiting their release. Lexa’s eyes roamed from Clarke’s before settling on hers again, but something about them changed. Something about them was warmer, more relaxed. It was as if the flame she stared at transfered from the candle and warmed the olive to something brighter. Perhaps it was just the wine lingering in Clarke’s system.  
   
“Do you get lonely, even when your friend is there?” Clarke asked finally and watched as an array of emotions flickered in Lexa’s unmoving gaze. They went by too fast for Clarke to recognize before settling on one look she knew to be confusion.  
   
“My friend?” Lexa asked, raising her eyebrow.  
   
“Yeah, the one that drove off without you” Clarke elaborated.  
   
“Oh,” Lexa began, her eyes settling on recognition. “He’s not my friend. It’s complicated” Clarke tried and failed holding back her scoff. Lexa’s brow knitted.  
   
“I have time” Clarke replied, and Lexa’s lips pressed like they did when she pondered over something. She could see the gears turning behind those green eyes. For the first time, Clarke had noticed the little golden flecks in the woman’s inner iris.  
   
“There’s a group of us,” Lexa began, tearing her gaze away from Clarke’s and focused on the candle flame. “We were running out of food so I left with two others to find more. I came in here to find food. Another woman, her name is Maya, went to the highway to siphon more gas. And the man, his name is Quint, was waiting in the car for a quick getaway” Lexa explained, and Clarke listened carefully.  
   
“I was thinking a different kind of complicated” Clarke admitted, though, for some reason, she couldn’t see Lexa with a man. “You’re too strong of a woman to fall for a sleaze who would just leave you here” this was, of course, prompted by the remaining effects of the wine. She knew she’d never say something like that sober. Wine drunk Clarke had no filter.  
   
“Do you like being alone, Clarke?” Lexa asked, shifting the subject. Clarke couldn’t blame her. Romance was the last thing on her mind, too.  
   
“Not anymore” Clarke admitted, and Lexa’s eyes flickered back to Clarke’s. “Were you thinking about leaving?” she asked. Lexa shifted uneasily in her spot before sighing.  
   
“I was, yes, but too many people rely on my survival” Lexa replied. Clarke furrowed her brow, thinking that Lexa was being a bit arrogant about her position in people’s lives being more than special, but the humble look lingering in those green and gold eyes fended off those thoughts. Like she was scared that her people wouldn’t be able to survive without her risking her life to bring them food.  
   
Clarke turned back to the ceiling for a bit. She wasn’t lying when she said she no longer wanted to be alone. That conclusion was drawn when the last drop of wine slid down her throat. Leaving Raven was the worst mistake she’d made this far. She’d do anything to go back in time just to wake up next to Raven and hug her again. The very idea of never being able to hug Raven, or even hear her voice ever again had begun to manifest in her drunken state, and oh how it amplified as time ticked away.  
   
She had spent an entire month alone, and Clarke couldn’t tell if it was the longest month in her life, or the shortest. Many nights she felt hollow, like there was no longer a Clarke in her mindless shell of a body. It was the same thing every day and every night, save for the various amounts of geeks she lay to rest. And she was tired of it.  
   
Clarke Griffin had stopped living the moment she left Raven behind. But here she was now, lying beside another human after months of being alone, and suddenly she was jump started. Lexa had shook her from that geek-like state.   
   
“Take me with you” Clarke declared, surprising herself as much as she surprised Lexa. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, at least not for now” Clarke could see the protest in Lexa’s face before she even spoke.  
   
“You’ll only slow me down” Lexa replied, trying to tear her gaze away from Clarke’s. Determination was burning in her azure eyes, and Lexa simply couldn’t look away from the rawness.  
   
“I’ve managed to live a month by myself. I’m more than capable of handling things. If you think I’m too slow, you can leave me behind. When we reach your camp, I’ll leave, if you want” Clarke elaborated, determined to see more life than the shell of a human in the water’s reflection. She needed something to survive for or she knew she’d meet a fate similar to the priest.   
   
“I don’t know, Clarke. It’s a long ways away” Lexa responded, her eyes narrowing. She was looking for the joke in Clarke’s words, but she wouldn’t find any. Clarke was as serious as the day she dropped out of med school.  
   
“And I have nothing else to do” Clarke responded, her counter attack being reasonable. She didn’t know where she was going when she got here in the first place. Having a direction to go was just as good as being around another person.  
   
Lexa seemed to mull over the idea for what felt like an eternity, but assuming the hand on Jake’s watch was correct, only five minutes passed. She let out a long, audible sigh before a defeated look on Lexa’s face prompted a wide smile on Clarke’s.  
   
“Okay, but if you do slow me down, I won’t hesitate to leave you behind”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter feels a little rushed. I hashed this out in a day, which I find shocking. It took me a month to write the prologue. Thank you for continuing to read this story, means a lot. I managed to cover all that I wanted to cover in this chapter. I still need a beta (please, again, I'm a hoe for validation)  
> If you like the chapter and the story so far, leave a kudos.  
> Right now, I'm in the honeymoon stage of writing so I have a bunch more chapters waiting to be written.  
> Also, if you leave a comment, I'm doing a new thing and replying to them so !!  
> Stay tuned for more, my dudes.


	3. You're Not You When You're Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first two days of their journey,  
> Clarke and Lexa get along like oil and water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6,576
> 
> Chapter Rating: Eh pg-13. Just some violence and swearing

  If Clarke had to choose one thing she missed most about the old world, it would be music. Many nights were spent scavenging deep within the industry to find a tune that inspired the next foot in front of the other. It was there for all her long walks, her drives to work, when she was cooking. From chill vaporwave on rainy days to hard rock anthems after yet another argument with her mother, she would listen in fear of silence. But that’s all there was now. Silence.  
   
    Music had been an outlet for her, a source she could put her feelings into rather than words or thoughts. Without it, there was nothing to buffer the raw emotion toiling inside her. There was nothing to scream along to, cry to, or get her in the mood for yet another day.  
   
    It was tragic to think how scarce music was now. There had been so much culture, so much soul, lost in the wake of the end. People had devoted their lives to making their mark on the world, but it was all for not. Their years of starving artistry would be forgotten.  
   
    Clarke thought it to be an artist’s worst fear. From oil paintings to tibetan throat singing, each product sought recognition. Each product sought to engrave in people’s minds. There were no people left to engage, and now art was endangered. It was a commodity that no survivor now had the time to appreciate. No survivor except Clarke.  
   
    Pinned to the surface of a refrigerator door with a flower magnet was a small crayon drawing, no doubt composed by a child, and Clarke analyzed the scribbles as if she were an art critic. For two years she studied the fine arts, and she was determined not to let her knowledge go to complete waste. If she’d known the world would end, she would have continued her medical studies. There wasn’t much she could do now, as tragic as it was.  
   
    “I doubt there’s anything good in the fridge” Lexa stated from a few paces away. Her nose was buried in one of the cupboards, spinning the lazy susan in hopes to see a crumb of food.  
   
    They’d been traveling for the past few hours and now stopped at one of the houses to look for food. Clarke didn’t have any food previous to their encounter yesterday, and Lexa explained that her rations had been in the vehicle that made a hasty escape without her. Lexa had been reluctant to stop so soon in their travels, but Clarke made the undeniable point that they wouldn’t be able to make it if they couldn’t keep up their strength.  
   
    “Some people put food in the fridge that they don’t have to. My dad used to put candy in the freezer” Clarke responded, but turned away from the fridge anyways. Whatever food behind those doors would be rotten by now, and Clarke wasn’t keen on finding out how it looked or smelled. She wasn’t ready to throw up whatever acid remained in her stomach.  
   
“That’s strange” Lexa commented, shoving her arm further into the cupboard. Clarke watched as her hand disappeared under the lower shelf of the lazy susan.  
   
“He liked his chocolate cold” Clarke replied, shrugging. She approached a closet door which was probably the pantry, and frowned when she found it empty.  
   
“How do you feel about cranberry sauce?” Lexa suddenly asked, reigning in the blonde’s attention. The corner of her lip tugged into a grimace, but it was food. Surely her stomach wouldn’t be as obstinate as it felt now.  
   
“Whatever keeps me from eating myself” Clarke sighed and didn’t fail to notice the way Lexa’s brow quirked suggestively. “God, I didn’t mean it like that” she quickly said to clarify.  
   
“I assure you, Clarke, that I’m more concerned about you cannibalizing yourself than a sexual innuendo” Lexa responded. Embarrassment crawled up to Clarke’s cheeks as Lexa placed the canned cranberry sauce on the island in the middle of the kitchen. The brunette busied herself with the task of locating a can opener.  
   
Clarke wandered over to the cupboards that she knew contained plates and pulled out two fancier ones. They reminded her of the ones her mother kept that she refused to use, her reasoning that one day someone famous might come over. She’d be damned if she let someone like the president or Oprah eat off the plate Clarke made when she was twelve.  
   
Clarke placed the plates on the island along with spoons she’d found after scavenging through the drawers. Lexa followed Clarke a few seconds later, brandishing a canopener. She gave Clarke that look she usually gave as if to ask why.  
   
“Might as well eat as civilized human beings while we can. Who knows, years from now we could be reduced down to cavemen” Clarke declared. She gave Lexa a big toothy grin complete with a sliver of tongue poking out. The corner of Lexa’s mouth seemed to twitch as if she were about to smile.  
   
Lexa went on to open the can, and with one pat to the bottom, the entire contents of the can plopped down on to her plate. Clarke poked the gelatinous can-shaped blob with her spoon and it jiggled with every probe. Lexa shooed her spoon away with her own and found the center. She lopped the blob and half and gestured for Clarke to grab her fraction.  
   
Clarke obliged and flopped the gelital food on to her plate. She watched Lexa take the first bite, gauging what it might taste like by her reaction. Her face remained that same stoic composure as she took a few more bites. Instead of asking her what it was like, Clarke swallowed down her nerves. She would eat it regardless. It was food, and she’d been hungry for a while.  
   
It didn’t taste as bad as she had anticipated. It tasted like cranberries, like it was supposed to, but Clarke could do without it’s gummy texture. She opted to cut it in smaller pieces and swallow it as opposed to chewing it. It made consuming the sauce easier. When she was done with her portion, it left her just as unsatisfied as before. The only thing it offered was a few more hours of survival until her next meal.  
   
“We should keep looking” Clarke said, abandoning the plate.  
   
“We need to keep moving” Lexa responded. “We’d be wasting time here. There’s a long journey ahead of us. The sooner we get to camp, the sooner we can eat properly”  
   
Lexa had a point, they did have a long journey waiting for them. Time waited for nobody, and while they spent time scrounging for food in a barren house, the sunlight would continue to soar further along its course without regard. Clarke wanted to argue that it wouldn’t hurt anybody to be a day later than their estimated time of arrival, but the look of determination in Lexa’s eyes was as stubborn as a stump refusing to unroot from the ground.  
   
And so they left, with packs no more full of food than they were before, and a sun reaching the peak of its course.   
   
Lexa had explained the journey extensively during their travels. Her camp was located more northern in Mississippi and neared the border of Arkansas. If they kept the speed they were going now, it would be possible to reach it within five days, but her calculations had not included any stops, and Clarke was sure Lexa was insane for assuming they’d be able to keep their strength up for hours of uninterrupted traveling. Clarke tried to reason with Lexa on taking breaks to rest her feet, but Lexa just reminded her of the promise to leave her behind if she couldn’t keep up.  
   
Of course, Clarke is in no position to argue with Lexa. She was much more built for this than Clarke was, and her calculations were made for only herself in mind, not Clarke. She was just tagging along with Lexa. Clarke had considered letting the determined brunette journey by herself, but that kind of thinking was what lead her into leaving Raven behind and she wasn’t about to let something like that happen again.   
   
About three more hours into their travels, and they find themselves walking along a road less traveled. Clarke spotted a car veered off the granite path and wrapped around the trunk of a strong standing tree. With many words of convincing, Clarke manages to persuade Lexa to stop and search the vehicle with her. Even a half empty water bottle in the back seat would be grateful at this point.  
   
“This is a waste of time” Lexa said as they approached the wrecked vehicle. Clarke only rolled her eyes and jogged over to the driver’s side.   
   
Sitting in the front seat was a geek unaware of her presence until she rapped her knuckle on the undamaged window. Lexa’s face appeared behind her shoulder in the glass with a look that Clarke was sure was reserved for only her and children. She ignored the geek clawing on the window at her with gurgling noises and approached the passenger side of the car.  
   
“I’ll pop the trunk for you to search after I kill the geek” Clarke said, checking the door. With her luck, it was locked.  
   
“Why do you call them geeks?” Lexa asked as Clarke unsheathed her knife. She looked up at Lexa from the top of the car and shrugged.  
   
“It’s what my dad called them. Makes them less intimidating, I suppose” Clarke responded. She took the butt of the knife and jabbed at the window. After a few hits, the window caved in and scattered all over the passenger seat. She reached in, careful for the remaining glass judding up, and popped the door open with ease.  
   
The geek reached towards her, extending it’s body as far as the seat belt would allow. Without any difficulty, Clarke plunged her blade into the geek’s brain and shoved it’s body back into the driver’s seat. She reached down past the body and pulled the latch to the trunk with a satisfying thunk. Lexa wasted no time in going to the back, and Clarke began sifting through the garbage in the front seats.  
   
There were a few McDonald takeout bags on the floor that provided nothing but garbage. There was a cup in the cupholders full of flat soda that soaked through the bottom and stained the fresh leather counsel. She opened the dash, hoping that there might be at least a candy bar, but all that resided was a bunch of papers including the title to the car. It was a newer vehicle, just as she’d deduced, purchased not long before the day of reckoning.   
   
Clarke crawled into the back seat. There was, after all, a water bottle on the floor that contained only one fourth of it’s capacity. After shoving a hand into the pockets of the leather seats and obtaining a half eaten nutrigrain bar, that was unfortunately beginning to mold, Clarke vacated the vehicle. She carefully approached Lexa and stumbled when the woman pulled out an axe.  
   
“You should take this” Lexa said, holding it out for her to grab. Clarke carefully took it from Lexa’s hand. It’s weight took her by surprise, but Clarke was strong enough not to let it hit the ground.  
   
“It’s a bit heavy. I’m not sure if I’d want to carry something like this around” Clarke said as Lexa rummaged through a suitcase. After shoving some clothes around in the luggage, she pulled out two packages of air suctioned animal crackers.  
   
“I suppose you’re right. If it were a hatchet, it would be different” Lexa sighed and turned away from the suitcase. She leaned against the bumper and handed one of the snacks to Clarke.  
   
“I found some water. It’s not much, but it will help wash down these” Clarke said as she sat the axe down to take the compressed animal crackers. She tore off the edge and began snacking on the little lions and giraffes. Half of them were crushed, but Clarke didn’t mind it much.  
   
Clarke figured the geek in the drivers side had been returning home from a long flight. The luggage, air tight animal crackers, and not to forget the giant bag of McDonalds and giant cup. It was Clarke’s go-to for jet lag as well. As much as she hated how rotten her insides felt after a double quarter pounder, large fries, and a medium soda with no ice, she spoiled herself anyways.  
   
“Have you ever been on a plane before?” Clarke asked, suddenly curious as to what Lexa might have experienced.  
   
“I guess. To Afghanistan” Lexa responded after gulping down the animal cracker in her mouth. Clarke raised her eyebrows in surprise.  
   
“You actually served?” She asked. She felt stupid for being shocked, considering Lexa looked older than Clarke.   
   
“I was there for a few months until they pulled us back when shit started hitting the fan here” Lexa went on to explain. She grabbed the bottle of water from Clarke when she finished her animal crackers.  
   
“Holy shit, so you’re a marine?” Clarke asked, her eyes growing wide. She couldn’t picture Lexa clad with heavy military gear and a standard issue rifle. Sure she looked strong, but not that strong.  
   
“It was the best course of action for me. I didn’t have much else going for me, so I thought why the hell not” Lexa explained, handing the bottle back to Clarke after taking a few sips. She didn’t miss the way Clarke stood bug-eyed with curiosity.  
   
“Have you been on a plane, Clarke?” She asked, changing the subject.  
   
“A lot, yeah. My dad and I would head up to his family cabin in Minnesota during hunting season. It was the only time of the year I saw his side of the family” Clarke responded, turning her attention somewhere other than Lexa.  
   
Many fond memories were of those two weeks with her father and his family. Jake Griffin was a born and raised Minnesota man, and he wasn’t shy about it. He was loyal to his state down to a tee, with the acception of it’s football team. “The Vikings are abysmal” he’d say while cheering for the Saints.  
   
As Clarke and Lexa began their journey once more, Clarke reminisced on her time with Jake’s side of the family. Many nights were spent huddled around the campfire with beers and laughter. Nobody seemed to care that she sat back in one of the lawn chairs - that her uncle would bring - with a beer in her hand, nor did they censor their profanity and racey jokes. Just one of the boys, she was, considering the men in Jake’s family were the only ones that partook in the hunting craze.  
   
Clarke knew her father sometimes wished she was a boy, if her name wasn’t evidence enough. But Jake never loved her less. Instead he bought her girlier flannels and camo sweatshirts for Christmas and never neglected to place his shotgun on the kitchen table when she brought a boy, or a girl, home. If only he knew how bad the boys were, and manipulative the girls were. She was sure Jake would actually hunt them down.  
   
Clarke was his pride and joy. He always cheered louder at her soccer games, brought her more flowers than she could handle after a theatrical performance, and embarrassed her with goofy pictures on facebook. When Clarke began medical school, he would say that she could keep “this old fart from dying.” When she started art school he always asked how much her paintings costed. “Good christmas presents for the parents in the north” He would muse, and Clarke would laugh and say she’d do it for free.  
   
It was hard to believe he was gone. He’d been her rock since day one up until his death. He was a good man that died too young, not that 45 wasn’t that young or anything. He still had half of his life left to live, but the universe had different plans for Jake. Regardless, Clarke was determined to keep him alive in her heart.  
   
Suddenly, Clarke couldn’t help but wonder what Lexa’s parents were like. She wondered if Lexa looked more like her mother than her father, or if she acted more like her father than her mother.   
   
“So, does military run in the family or…” Clarke asked, letting her words trail for Lexa to fill in. The brunette was quiet for a moment, staring at the road ahead of her, until she turned to Clarke with a blank look.  
   
“I wouldn’t know” She said, and turned back to the road. “I grew up in the system”  
   
“Oh” Was all Clarke could think of to say as Lexa’s words sank in. It seemed to explain a little about Lexa and her personality. Guarded in a way kept herself from being hurt, not in a conventional sense, but as a defence mechanism.   
   
Clarke could only wonder what Lexa’s life was like while growing up in the system. She pondered how often Lexa had to bounce between homes, assuming that she did. How many schools did she have to change? How many people did she have to leave behind? There were so many questions Clarke had, but she kept her lips tight. Lexa wasn’t the type to share more than she wanted to, and Clarke feared her prying would anger the brunette. Lexa held no obligation in spilling her life story to the infuriating blonde following her like a lost puppy dog.  
   
And so they traveled for another few hours, but to Clarke, it felt like a billion years. Her feet were exhausted by the time they stopped at a small town and infiltrated an abandoned house. Lexa busied herself in securing the front door with the couch while Clarke explored with a knife in hand. When the coast was clear, Clarke wasted no time in collapsing on the floor out of fatigue.  
   
Lexa took first watch for the night, and Clarke happily obliged. After procuring a few blankets from the master bedroom, she curled up on the lazy boy in the living room. She snuggled her face into a pillow and clung on to a second like a child squeezing it’s teddy bear. Sleep encompassed her within seconds of resting her weary bones. She didn’t dream.  
   
When Lexa woke her up, it felt as if she’d only just closed her eyes. After checking her father’s watch, a few hours had passed, and it was indeed her turn to stand guard. The moonlight poured into the window and shined upon Lexa’s face which appeared withered from exhaustion. Clarke didn’t hesitate in vacating the lazy boy. Lexa clearly needed the sleep more than she did.  
   
It seemed as though Lexa passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Through the quiet, Clarke could hear the slow paced breaths leaving the brunette. It was almost serene. Lexa’s sleeping face emitted a beauty that wasn’t like her usual edgy charm. She looked calm, relaxed even. It was a vision in which Clarke had never seen, though she hadn’t known Lexa long. It didn’t take a psychologist to know that it wasn’t a look Lexa usually presumed.  
   
Clarke couldn’t help but be a little jealous. She wished she could be in the bliss that Lexa was in. The dark circles under Clarke’s eyes seemed to weigh more now that the cold night air wrapped around her rather than a blanket. But Lexa deserved this, Clarke told herself. She was starting to think that if she weren’t around to tell Lexa that she needed to take breaks, or even sleep, that the stubborn brunette would be out in the night trying to figure out where the hell north was.  
   
A sudden ache in her stomach bellowed, vocalizing it’s irritation enough to suck Clarke out of her deep thoughts. She grimaced before taking out the candle she’d kept from the church and lit the wick. A warm glow engulfed the room as the flame flickered and spat angrily. She went to stand on her feet, to go explore the kitchen for food even though she already knew there wouldn’t be any, when her eyes rested on the glass coffee table a few feet away.  
   
Clarke’s eyes widened when she recognized a few nutrigrain bars besides a note and a full bottle of water. She placed the candle down besides the note. She grabbed the parchment from under the pen that had been on top.  
   
 _"Found food. Eat one now and one in the morning."_  
 _-L_  
   
    Clarke’s mouth began to water as she read Lexa’s cursive hand writing. Of course she has cursive handwriting, Clarke thought as she placed the note back down on the coffee table. She wasted no more time in ripping off the corner of her nutrigrain bar. It was gone in a matter of seconds. She hadn’t even slowed down enough to taste it.  
   
    Clarke disregarded Lexa’s order to save the other for the morning, but she worked on savoring it more. Lexa was sure to scold her for it in the morning, but Clarke didn’t care. She was hungry now, and she would be just as hungry later. The water, however, she only drank half of. With how much walking awaited them in the morning, Clarke would have to have some sort of drink to replenish the sweat that was sure pour off of her.  
   
    It was sweet of Lexa to think of her. She didn’t have to look after Clarke. In fact, she didn’t have to agree with Clarke tagging along, either. Lexa didn’t have to answer her dumb questions. Lexa didn’t have to stop and wait for her to retie her shoes. Lexa didn’t have to listen to her go on about her father. Lexa didn’t have to do anything she was doing for Clarke.  
   
    So why was she putting up with her? Clarke concluded that Lexa was lying to herself, in a way. If the brunette truly believed in what she said about love being weakness, wouldn’t she have turned Clarke away? Wouldn’t she have insisted on going down this path alone, and told Clarke to beat it?  
   
    The blonde quickly shoved palms into her eyes to rub away those thoughts. She couldn’t overthink things like this. Right now, Clarke was lucky enough to not be alone. She shouldn’t ruin a good thing by thinking too hard. Grateful, she was, and would continue to be. Nobody could afford to be picky in this world anymore.  
   
    And so, to distract herself from forming conspiracies, Clarke grabbed the candle off of the coffee table. Next to a television centered against a wall in the living room, towering bookcases stood firmly on each side. She held the flame up to the spines, most withered from frequent usage, and inventoried what stood out most.  
    
  _Alice in Wonderland_ , too childish.   
   
 _Moby Dick_ , too old.   
   
 _Of Mice and Men_ , not her style.  
   
 _The Giver_. Now there was a book she could read. It was modern enough, had an interesting plot, and she could relate to the main character to some ability. Most importantly, it would keep her interest long enough until it was time to wake Lexa.  
   
For hours Clarke read about the boy who was given the special job to bare human emotions so that his people didn’t have to. She read about the boy who once saw the world in grey until an apple suddenly turned red. When Clarke decided to put herself in Jonas’ shoes, the book became even more interesting.  
   
Clarke almost didn’t notice the sun begin to rise. She’d been engrossed long enough for the once tall church candle reduce to the height of her pinky. With an unsatisfied sigh, she placed the book face down on the page she left off to go and wake up Lexa.  
   
“Lexa, wake up” Clarke ordered as she shook Lexa’s shoulders. Big mistake.  
   
A swift blow to the face sent Clarke careening backwards. Her heel caught on the leg of the coffee table and swept her legs from under her. Every inch of air in her lungs escaped as her back hit the carpet. She was left gasping desperately for the oxygen to come back.  
   
“Shit, Clarke” Lexa mumbled as she quickly crawled out of the lazy boy. “Shit” She said again while leaning over Clarke. The look in her eyes was wild as she held Clarke’s head between her hands.  
   
“I’m so sorry Clarke, I didn’t mean to” She continued. She had no clue what to do, and it was written all over her face.  
   
If anything, Clarke needed space. She sat up, pulling away from Lexa, and rested her back against the coffee table. She nearly knocked over the water bottle and sent her book to the floor.  
   
“Holy fucking hell” Clarke managed to sputter as her lungs began to regain control. She tried to sniffle up the snot in her nose, no doubt from the tears staining her vision, but it refused to be held back. When she went to wipe her nose and blood smeared on to the back of her hand. As if the situation couldn’t be worse.  
   
“Again, Clarke, I’m so sorry” Lexa said apologetically. “You should lean your head back” she reached out to tilt Clarke’s chin, but the blonde slapped away her hand.  
   
“You should have told me about your fucking right hook, Lexa” Clarke snapped. “And that’s not how you stop a bloody nose” she continued. Instead of listening to Lexa, Clarke leaned forward and pinched the bridge of her nose. If she leaned back, the blood would get into her throat and possibly irritate her nose further.  
   
“I didn’t think…” Lexa seemed to shake her head in disbelief, like she wasn’t sure she’d actually done it. Once Clarke got her breathing back under control, she stared at Lexa who now focused on finding something on the floor to look at. She couldn’t look at what she’d done.  
   
Time seemed to pass slowly, and eventually Clarke’s nose stopped bleeding. She’d taken the time in between to figure out if it was actually Lexa’s fault. Initially, Clarke had startled Lexa awake, prompting a fight or flight response. Judging by the fact that Lexa had been in Afghanistan and was now stuck in this shitty world, it was no surprise to have ignited a fight response. But that didn’t mean Clarke should have known.  
   
“Hey, look at me” Clarke demanded, and Lexa did. “It wasn’t your fault as much as it was mine” Clarke declared. It eased some of the guilt betraying the natural stoicism of Lexa’s olive eyes.   
   
“That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry” Lexa replied, her words rasping. Clarke watched as her eyes fell from hers. The way Lexa’s brow knitted together suggested she fell into a world within herself. A world full of thoughts and scenarios that could have prevented the position they were in now.  
   
“Maybe next time I should wake you up with a stick” Clarke commented, keeping her words light to brighten the mood. It seemed to do the opposite, but managed to pull Lexa back into the present.  
   
“This isn’t funny. I hurt you” Lexa deadpanned, and Clarke rolled her eyes.  
   
“I’m pretty sure I know that, commander obvious” Retorted Clarke. “It was me, after all, that you socked in the face” Lexa seemed to puff out her chest in frustration at Clarke’s words. Lexa wasn’t the type to cower when someone spoke spitefully. She also seemed to know when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Instead of responding to Clarke, she stood up and approached her bag.  
   
“We should leave soon” She began, but paused. “If you’re still coming with”  
   
Clarke answered her by gathering her things. Candle, check. Water bottle, check. Book, dog eared on the page she left off on, check. Once everything was in her bag, she shrugged the straps up her shoulders.  
   
Lexa, on the other hand, had paused to eat a nutrigrain bar and sip on a bottle of water. Her eyes narrowed when Clarke began to stare. When she twisted the cap back onto her water bottle, she sighed as if Clarke had done something she wasn’t supposed to. Before Clarke could say a word, Lexa spoke up first.  
   
“You already ate the other nutrigrain bar, didn’t you?” She asked. “I thought I told you to save it for morning” Clarke rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to be mothered by someone who just punched her in the face.  
   
“I think I’m capable of taking care of myself” Clarke responded, crossing her arms.  
   
“I asked for you to save it so I didn’t have to hear you complaining about needing to stop so you don’t die of starvation” Lexa explained, causing an embarrassed blush on Clarke’s cheeks. She didn’t complain that much, did she? Surely she just complained a reasonable amount for someone hell bent on traveling a billion miles a day.  
   
“So, is that your strange way of saying that you care about me?” Clarke asked, trying to get Lexa as embarrassed as her. It seemed to work effortlessly in providing a blush on Lexa’s cheeks. It was actually kinda cute, to say the most.  
   
“I’m simply being courteous” Lexa seemed to bite back.  
   
“Forgive me for thinking that chivalry was dead” Clarke retorted.  
   
They bickered back and forth for a while longer until Lexa gave in and insisted upon continuing their journey. They had many days left of travel, and Clarke couldn’t help but think about how long it was going to be. If the past 24 hours were going to be anything like the next few days, and eternity was waiting in the future. It didn’t sit well with Clarke, but she couldn’t say she hated the banter she shared with Lexa. It was comforting in a weird way.  
   
The way they spoke reminded Clarke of Raven, who was sarcastic in every way. While Lexa wasn’t sarcastic in the way that Raven was, her bite appeared the same size. Lexa lacked the smiles and laughter that often followed Raven’s witty remarks.  
   
Hell, if Raven saw how she and Lexa spoke to each other, Clarke was certain Raven would tell them to stop flirting, which they weren’t. Lexa may tolerate Clarke now, but the blonde was sure the brunette wasn’t far from kicking her to the curb. Clarke would simply tell Raven off, though that never stopped her best friend.  
   
Clarke frowned at the memory of her best friend. The biggest mistake she’d ever made was leaving her best friend, and Clarke wasn’t shy to admit it anymore. It had been a selfish decision, and now it ate at her to think whether Raven was still alive or not. She was afraid that the next geek she saw would end up being the girl who used to curl up on the couch with her to binge watch something random on Netflix.  
   
At first, neither liked each other. They had their eyes on the same guy, and when he slept with Raven after telling Clarke he loved her, they decided to hate him together. Together they swore of boys, Raven focusing on her engineering degree, and Clarke turing her attention towards women. It did wonders for their relationship, and months later they’d laugh about the whole thing.  
   
It felt as though all of that happened eons ago. It may have been years since the day they met, but now, after the world ended, it felt like a lifetime ago. Clarke hated it. She despised whatever happened to make the dead come back. It took everything from her except the clothes on her back.   
   
Nobody knew for certain what made people come back to life. Some said that it was already inside them, like a dormant virus. Others said a medical experiment gone wrong, but it didn’t prove the fact people still came back without being bitten. Clarke figured that it had to be something wrong with the brain. It couldn’t have been a gene mutation, Clarke figured, because if it was a simple mutation, it would have taken generations to integrate it into everybody’s DNA. She concluded that it had to be some sort of airborne virus that infected the human body and only reacted in the face of death.  
   
Upon entering the outskirts of yet another small town along their fated adventure, Clarke asked Lexa what she thought.  
   
“Donno” Lexa shrugged, never failing to be more than a woman of few words. Honestly, it frustrated Clarke on many degrees. Why Lexa couldn’t bring herself to elaborate, or even spare a few more words than just _donno_ , was beyond Clarke. Lexa in general was just… beyond Clarke.  
   
While they walked down the main stretch with daggers unsheathed, Clarke went on to spout off all her theories. She ignored all of Lexa’s silent pleas for her to be quiet. Cities were more dangerous, and Clarke’s volume didn’t seem to waver. Not even the handful of geeks that appeared at once had managed to shut Clarke up. Clarke was just… beyond Lexa.  
   
Both women were like stars in the same solar system but were so far apart that they couldn’t see the things that were there. Clarke often missed the way Lexa glanced at her like she held secret government information that she needed. Lexa often missed the way Clarke observed her like she was the world's most complicated math equation. Both often missed the way the other glanced over to make sure they were still there.  
   
“Clarke, can you please at least lower your voice” Lexa sighed as Clarke shifted the conversation from how the world ended to scavenging.  
   
“I’m hungry, and I know you are too. If you don’t eat, you’ll never make it” Clarke deadpanned, not heeding Lexa’s warning.  
   
“I’m fully aware of my own capabilities. I do not appreciate being treated like a child” Lexa responded, turning her attention from Clarke to the geek appearing from behind a building. It must have heard Clarke’s voice.  
   
“Perhaps if you took care of yourself properly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation” Clarke declared. Lexa rolled her eyes, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Jesus, it feels like I’m talking to a fucking wall”  
   
“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke” Lexa responded, readying herself for the geek approaching. The way the K rolled off her tongue made Clarke shiver, but in an oddly good way.  
   
“I’ll have you know that my best friend was one of the smartest people in the world, and she put stuck up wannabe politicians in their place” Clarke declared with her nose high in the air with pride. Lexa rolled her eyes again, and Clarke was starting to think that if she got on Lexa’s nerves enough, they’ll roll into the back of her head and get stuck. She certainly deserved it with how much of a brat she was being presently.  
   
“She must not have been that smart if she hung out with you” Lexa deadpanned. The geek approaching reached out to grasp Lexa, but she slapped it’s hands away effortlessly and plunged her blade deep into the geek’s eye socket. She grimaced at the darkened blood now coating her knife.  
   
They bickered back and forth a while longer until Clarke gave the most defeated sigh Lexa had ever heard. One woman was just as stubborn as the other, so often their arguments were matched. In the end, it would result to resolve, which varied upon circumstance.  
   
“Please, Lexa, can we just… five minutes. There’s a convenience store over there. If there’s no food, I’ll take first watch tonight” Clarke begged, trying to make a offer Lexa couldn’t refuse. It didn’t work the way she willed it, but Lexa gave her that look that made Clarke feel like a child.   
   
“Fine, if it will shut you up. But I take first watch tonight, I don’t know how much I trust you to stay awake” Lexa answered, though it looked as if it took much difficulty to comply.   
   
And with that, they entered the convenience store. Upon first glance, the isles were barren, much to Clarke’s dispare. Some of the isles had collapsed on others, no doubt by the struggles of other survivors. There were still clearance signs everywhere, clothing racks knocked over, and a smell more rotten than Clarke had ever smelled before. They found the source of the stench, which happened to be rotten food that was once refrigerated.  
   
“I regret agreeing to this. I didn’t think it would… smell” Lexa admitted quietly. They surveyed and searched for anything that might be good, but there was nothing.  
   
“There has to be something. Anything” Clarke grumbled in frustration. They pushed through one of the back doors into the storage area. To their surprise, there was an area where a few sleeping bags were unrolled. Trash surrounded the area, no doubt from eating all the food that had been stored.  
   
Determined to find something, and maintain her pride, Clarke sifted through the garbage. Alas, she couldn’t find a single crumb. Becoming even more flustered, Clarke sat on the floor and clenched her jaw. She was getting real irritated with how hungry she’d been as of late.  
   
“There’s nothing. Whoever was here ate all of this” Clarke seethed. Spite boiled her blood. While it may have been unreasonable to curse the people who hadn’t saved a single crumb, Clarke couldn’t help but be selfish.  
   
“I’m sorry Clarke, but we need to get moving again” Lexa stated, examining the vending machines meant for the employees. Clarke didn’t spare her a glance as she wrapped her arms around her knees. She pulled them towards herself as if it could appease the sharp pain in her abdomen. It didn’t, and Clarke’s knuckles grew white from clutching on to her sweatshirt.  
   
“Just give me a moment” Clarke rasped, struggling to hold on to her pride. She didn’t notice Lexa’s stoic gaze soften on her. She turned back to the vending machine and crouched down. Clarke’s eyebrow raised in curiosity as Lexa checked to see if there was anything underneath. She looked away before Lexa could meet her eye.  
   
Moments later, and Lexa was standing in front of Clarke. Her combat boot knocked against Clarke’s shoe to get her attention. The blonde looked up to see Lexa crouching in front of her, their eyes level. At first Clarke didn’t notice the object she was holding out for her, having been momentarily distracted by those enticing olive orbs.  
   
“Here,” Lexa began, tearing her gaze away from Clarke’s. “You’re not you when you’re hungry” She mumbled, and Clarke’s eyes grew wide as they rested on a Snicker bar. It took her a few moments to register what Lexa had just said.  
   
 _Wait… Did Lexa just make a joke?_  
   
 “I uh…” Clarke was at a loss for words. She grabbed the snickers from Lexa and the brunette stood up. Lexa tried not to look like she cared all that much by straightening her shoulders, keeping her face turned from Clarke, her nose in the air, and eyes closed as if to summon her pride silently.  
   
“Thank you, Lexa” Clarke murmured. For the first time, Clarke could see more of Lexa than she had before.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so my ass is tired as hell so I only read like half of it and I wasn't even paying attention so I'd like to thank you for reading it despite it's errors. I gotta say, I have a huge fraction of this fic planned, and I'm already veering a bit off of the initial path, but hey, you get bigger chapters.  
> Leave a kudos if you like it so far  
> Drop a comment to let me know what you think. I'd like to pick your guy's brains.   
> Thanks again for reading and  
> see you soon, my dudes.


	4. Killer Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More backstory on Clarke. Basically filler, but important in regards of relationship development. It's basically one giant Clexa moment before the real plot begins to take shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 4,801 (Yeah it's a shorter chapter, but all's good)
> 
> Chapter Rating: 16+ for sexual references and language.

Clarke was an artist of many trades, though the same couldn’t be said about her sculpting skills. When she wasn’t preparing for an advanced Biology exam, or kicking around a ball on a pitch, Clarke was engrossing herself in many forms of artistic expression. From scraping charcoal on to paper to getting on stage and reciting theatrical lines, Clarke loved it all. It was when she truly shined.

Clarke’s first role in the theatrical industry was playing as one of the mice in the Nutcracker during third grade. She was the best god damn mouse on that stage, she would tell people, leaving out the fact she stepped on her tail while walking on to the stage and imprinting her grey painted face on the floor. It was the darkest moment of her career, but it soared from there.

With her father’s engraved passion for competition, Clarke fought her way into the theatrical hierarchy throughout middle school. Every so often she had the opportunity to be apart of the Spring musical the high school put on when certain roles called for a younger actor. Much to her dismay, she didn’t get every role she petitioned for, but it fueled her competitiveness indefinitely.

Unfortunately, when Clarke actually got to high school, she dropped theater to focus on her future as a doctor. She’d been so sure on her course of action, but when junior year rolled around, she couldn’t avoid her call to the stage. Art and medicine may have been her true passions, but they never gave her the rush that the stage presented.

Jake, was again, the most supportive father in the world with every decision she made, and made it to every single performance. Her mother wasn’t too keen on attending them, since Abby didn’t like giant crowds and had no interest in theater. It was a blow to Clarke’s self esteem. All she wanted was for her mother to recognize her, to see her in her brilliance.

When Clarke made it to college, she made peace with not having the time for plays or musicals. Her first year of med school was a hectic one, but she made time and put effort into attending shows at the very college she would end up dropping out for. Raven, the ever so loyal roommate she was, provided Clarke her service as a plus one so that she wasn't alone. Raven wasn't one for plays or musicals, much like Abby in the regards of the mass of people filtering into the grand indoor amphitheater, but Clarke's anxiety of getting lost or, even trampled, gave her the courage to attend. To Clarke, Raven was a saving grace.

Now here Clarke was, walking from point A to point B alongside Lexa, struggling not to burst into song. Showtunes always managed to bring a pep into her step, and she needed it now more than ever. All this traveling was boring her, starving her, and giving her the workout of a lifetime. The same few songs repeated like a broken record in her mind, and it was starting to annoy her, but it distracted her from the blisters on her feet, so she didn't mind it as much.

Lexa, on the other hand, had noticed Clarke's odd change in behavior. The blonde hadn't complained at all except when Lexa woke her up. It was day three now, and Lexa was sure Clarke would have tapped out by now, but the blonde let out an occasional hum she didn't recognize. Seeing Clarke with so much energy was a miracle to behold, so Lexa wasn't going to complain.

Currently, they're halfway to Lexa's camp, or that's what Lexa said when they began their journey in the morning. Clarke didn't actually believe that they were half way. Lexa had begun to noticeably slow down since day one. Clarke wasn't certain what had withered the headstrong woman, but there were many variables. It could be dehydration, starvation, low moral, fatigue, or the least believable theory, Clarke herself. Perhaps Lexa had slowed down so that she could keep up. It sounded ridiculous, but Clarke entertained the idea that, perhaps, Lexa actually enjoyed her company.

Lexa had begun to grow on Clarke. The bickering that usually ensued between them gave the blonde an odd sense of comfort. It was as if she were back in her dorm arguing with Raven about who was supposed to do the dishes. It was the part of humanity that had been absent during Clarke's time alone. A love-hate relationship was probably the most human things she could think of.

"It's starting to get colder out" Clarke stated as they descended down yet another paved road. She turned to the brunette, who seemed to never take her hair out of that braided bun, and questioned how well Lexa would be able to pull off a leather jacket. With theater still on the brain, Clarke tried to picture Lexa as the infamous Danny Zuko from Grease. It was a pleasant image.

"That's usually what happens during fall" Lexa said, turning to the blonde. Clarke must have been thinking really hard, because Lexa narrowed her eyes. "You're thinking too loud" and there it was.

"Hardly" Clarke scoffed. A small smile crept to her lips as a thought imposed her Danny-like image of Lexa. "I was just thinking about what kind of person you were in high school" She lied. She wanted to know if Lexa actually fell into the crowd of greasers, though she gave off a punk vibe.

"You want to know what I was like in high school?" Lexa asked as if she were making sure she had heard Clarke correctly. "That's an odd thing to be thinking about, given the current state"

"Well, all this walking has given me time to think" Clarke responded. "So were you like, a jock, a prep, a nerd or..." she trailed off, expecting Lexa to fill in the blanks. Lexa stopped walking and gave Clarke a hard stare. It was the same look she had whenever she seemed to consider something with great detail.

"I guess you could say I was a loner" Lexa admitted. "I changed schools every now and then, so it was hard to fit in" she elaborated. Lexa didn't often explain herself, so Clarke took this as a personal victory. She was breaking through the brunette's barrier more as the days went on.

"So then you're a James Dean, huh" Clarke said, though more to herself.

"The actor?" Lexa questioned, cocking her head to the side in confusion. "I don't know about that..."

"No, no, not the actor. He's a character in one of my favorite musicals" Clarke clarified. "At first I figured you were more of a Danny Zuko, but now that you've so kindly enlightened me, you're much more like JD, minus the psychotic break" Lexa didn't look any less confused. If anything, Clarke was just talking to herself now.

"I must say, Clarke. I didn't peg you for a theater geek" the brunette stated, beginning the journey once more. She didn't pull her gaze away from the blonde, though. Clarke gave her a playful shove, as if to say fuck off in the kindest way.

"There's so much you have yet to find out about me" Clarke said into the wind dramatically. She gave Lexa a giant grin when she saw the brunette shaking her head disapprovingly, and didn't miss the way the corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk.

"What makes you think I want to know more?" Lexa asked. The smoldering look on her face only provided a clearer picture for Clarke. Lexa was definitely a James Dean.

Once again, Clarke and Lexa delve into yet another match of witty remarks, but without their usual bitterness. It lacked a common factor in which their previous arguments contained; frustration. Clarke wasn't complaining, and Lexa wasn't pushing. They subconsciously fell into a pace that was comfortable, and respect for the other appeared where it hadn't been before.

Clarke understood Lexa's urgency to get back to her people. She must miss them terribly, much like Clarke missed Raven. She just couldn't handle Lexa's passion. While it was a feature Clarke found to be a charming trait, it often bit her ass when she didn't share an equal amount of it. In conclusion, Clarke didn't hate Lexa, but admired her. She was doing what Clarke couldn't bring herself to do a month ago; remain loyal.

Clarke figured if she were in a situation similar to Lexa, having been abandoned by a member of her group, she probably would have moved on and discarded the very idea of making her way back, though it depended on the circumstance. Lexa had stated once before that love was weakness, but what other reason would she have to return to her people? Perhaps it was a sense of duty engraved into her during her time training as a marine. Still, it didn't make sense.

Lexa was a survivalist. That much was obvious from the first time they met. Lexa had been cautious of Clarke's intentions, and even agreed with the blonde when she said that living alone was easier. So why wasn't Lexa living on her own if she truly believed so? There was something at this camp that the brunette cared about, something or someone was keeping her there. Clarke didn't pry, though. She understood the unseen aspects. Emotions and bonds were sometimes too hard to discard, so she didn't blame Lexa for having those very human things.

As the sun began to meet the horizon, Clarke and Lexa made their way to a house located in the countryside they were traveling along. It was too late in the day to be able to make it to the next town down the line, so they made peace with ending their travels earlier than usual. Luckily when they stopped to search for food in a town not far from where they were now, they found a duffle bag with a few cans of food left behind by people who appeared to have left in a hurry, so they weren't as hungry as they once were.

The house they took shelter in was old, and built on farmland. It was beautiful, in Clarke's artistic point of view. The way it was built and kept showed clear signs of love. Whoever once lived in this house was obviously passionate and proud of their home.

The inside was no different than the outside, but it felt smaller. The furniture looked old, but not as old as the house appeared, and many dusty photographs hung up on the walls. There were many pictures of an older couple, as well as their children, and their children's children. It even smelled much like Clarke's grandparent's house.

"I kinda like this place" Clarke said to Lexa from the second story. "It feels like the geeks never got here" she continued while viewing a frame propped up on a bedside table. It was an old photograph that yellowed over time, and it showed a younger version of the old couple. They smiled at each other as if they were the only ones who existed.

Clarke left the master bedroom and entered the hallway to peer over the banister overlooking the living room. She watched as Lexa finished securing the couch against the front door. The brunette relaxed her shoulders once she checked the door to make sure nobody could get in before turning to look up at Clarke.

"It's a nice place" Lexa stated. Clarke made her way down the stairs, ignoring the way they creaked under her weight, and stood in front of Lexa with a small smile.

"Could you see yourself living in a place like this when you're old?" The blonde asked. She pushed past Lexa to sit on one of the chairs in the living room and propped her feet up on the wooden coffee table.

"It's hard to picture myself five years from now, Clarke. The world isn't like it used to be. If I do manage to live until that age, I hardly believe that it will look like this" Lexa explained, and the blonde nodded along. Yes, it was true. When the world ended, a new era dawned on the horizon. Almost every aspect of their life changed, and many futures were unsure.

"Well then if the world hadn't changed, how would you have answered that?" Clarke asked, furthering the conversation. She quite liked Lexa's voice. It held a certain smoothness to it.

"Even then I couldn't picture it. I didn't have a very steady lifestyle" Lexa admitted. She joined Clarke in the living room and sat in the other chair adjacent to the blonde. She busied herself with the knots of her boots.

"I used to see myself as a doctor, but I dropped out of med school" explained Clarke as she watched Lexa take off her boots with a relieved sigh. She had blisters just like Clarke.

"I wanted to be a lawyer once, but when I realized that wasn't an option, I joined the military" Lexa said as she leaned back into the chair. It didn't look like the most comfortable chair in the world, but the look of content on Lexa's face showed that she was more relieved to be sitting than worrying about comfort.

"Why wasn't it an option?" Clarke asked curiously. Those olive green eyes made their way up to meet the blondes and held a coolness to them.

"College was too expensive, and most scholarships I didn't qualify for. I thought about joining the national guard so that they could pay for my college tuition, but the more I looked into the military, the more it grew on me" Lexa explained. Clarke gawked at the brunette in a sense of awe. Lexa actually loved being in the military. Perhaps it offered her a more consistent lifestyle. Clarke thought it was beautiful.

Clarke could never have joined the military. By nature, she was rebellious. She was mostly independent and could never live under such strict circumstances. The feud between her and her mother was evidence of that. Never would she be strong armed into submission. Clarke Griffin didn't take orders from anybody, and that's something her father had taught her.

"Why did you drop out of med school?" Lexa asked, pulling Clarke out of her thoughts. The blonde grimaced at the memory.

"My mother was a doctor, and for years I thought I wanted to be too, but I couldn't handle something like that back then. I didn't want to live with the kind of lifestyle it brought. She was never around and didn't have time to do anything but work" Clarke explained, and Lexa nodded along with understanding.

"It's not for everybody" Lexa said, and a smile crept onto Clarke's face. At first, Clarke didn't expect Lexa to understand. The blonde spoke against a life similar to the life the brunette had chosen.

They spoke a little bit longer until the sun had officially vacated the sky before Clarke decided it was time to go to bed. They had another days worth of traveling, and the longer she stayed awake, the fewer hours of sleep she would get. She felt safer sleeping in the living room with Lexa, so she grabbed blankets from the master bedroom and made a little bed on the floor. She didn't realize how exhausted she was until her head hit the pillow. Before she knew it, Lexa was waking her up again hours later.

For the first time, Clarke had to stand watch without any light at all. During her previous watch, the candle from the church had finally burnt out. Luckily she had finished her book before then. Except now she had to sit in the darkness with nothing to do. It was unnerving having to stare into the darkness. It felt as if a monster were lurking about and would lunge at any moment.

At some point during Clarke's slumber, clouds had formed and blocked off the moonlight. The wind picked up and every creak and bellow the old house emitted made the frightened blonde jump. She clutched Lexa's gun close to her chest with white knuckles. To alleviate some of the fear she held for the darkness, Clarke remained close to where Lexa was sleeping. The sound of the brunette's slow breaths gave the blonde a pace to follow whenever a sound had spooked her. Even asleep, Lexa could somehow bring Clarke the security she needed. It was oddly reassuring.

Throughout the night, Clarke focused her thoughts back to showtunes. It didn't lift her mood like it had done earlier in the day. If anything, it served as a distraction, though a poor one. She still heard all the little noises, she still jumped, and she still stared wide-eyed into the darkness with anticipation. She was truly afraid of the off chance they hadn't checked the house well enough for geeks. If one showed up at any moment, she wouldn't be able to see it. It was virtually impossible, given that she couldn't actually see Lexa either.

A soft pitter patter on the roof made Clarke's heart stop. She froze in place as she listened long and hard before realizing that it had begun to rain outside. Just as she began to lower her guard, the sky cracked with lighting. A loud yelp escaped her, and her finger tightened on the trigger of the handgun in shock. A loud bang followed and a bullet was shot into the darkness.

"Clarke!" Lexa exclaimed as she sat up quickly. She sounded as terrified as Clarke was.

"Lexa" Clarke croaked as she let the gun fall to the floor and surged over to where Lexa was. "There was thunder, and I got scared, and the gun went off on accident. I didn't mean to, I just. I can't see anything and it feels like a geek could just come out of nowhere and kill me and-"

"Clarke" Lexa interrupted, silencing the blonde. She felt Lexa grab on to her arm and pull her into a hug. At first, Clarke was stunned, but she eventually melted into the warmth Lexa radiated. Her erratic breathing slowed down as she buried her nose into Lexa's shoulder. She smelled of body odor, old cigarettes, and nature, but Clarke liked it. It didn't really smell that bad, having gotten used to the smell of body odor since the world ended, and the cigarettes reminded her of her father. It was comforting.

"I'm sorry" Clarke mumbled into Lexa's black sweater.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as she squeezed them shut. It wasn't because of the panic attack. No. It was out of frustration. She was so angry at herself for reducing to the mess she was currently. Since when was she afraid of the dark, or of thunder? How could she let herself become this afraid little girl who coward in the face of imposing danger? This wasn't the person she was supposed to be. This wasn't the person she was raised to be.

"You're okay" Lexa spoke softly. Clarke could feel the vibrations as she spoke. She didn't realize how hard she'd been clutching on to Lexa's sweater until she let go.

Clarke didn't move from where she was. It was so comfortable to be in someone's arms, even if she was currently clinging to a stranger. It felt as though she knew she was going to be alright. She couldn't remember the last time someone had comforted her like this. She'd always been the one to tell people that it was going to be okay. She was always the shoulder to cry on. So many people had looked to her to lead them away from the lives they were being forced to live, because they couldn't make the hard decisions and she did until she couldn't anymore.

Eventually, Clarke gathered the strength to pull away from Lexa. A string of lighting flashes poured through the window and illuminated Lexa's features for just a second, but it was enough to notice that Lexa's brow furrowed with concern. Low rumbles rattled the old house as Clarke dragged in a slow inhale, held it for a moment, and exhaled in a way that it flowed through her body. She did that a few more times until her composure returned.

"Thank you" Clarke said, squinting hard to make out the faint shape of Lexa's face. "You should go back to sleep. I'll be okay"

"No offence, Clarke, but I don't think I want to. Even if I did, I don't think I'll be able to after that" Lexa sighed, and Clarke's shoulders deflated. This was so not what was supposed to happen. Was it so bad to want things to run smoothly for one night? Was it a crime to have any ounce of good luck? Lexa didn't deserve this. If it weren't for Clarke's shitty luck, Lexa wouldn't have to go though this damn emotional rollercoaster.

"I didn't mean for this to happen" Clarke mumbled as she retreated into herself. Her arms wrapped around her knees and pulled them towards herself.

"It's fine. Really" Lexa responded, and she turned to move around the blankets she'd been peacefully under moments ago. "Can I have my gun back?" She asked before giving Clarke one of the blankets. The blonde took it thankfully and wrapped it around herself. It didn't do Lexa's hug justice, but it was warm and comforting enough.

Clarke felt around the floor for the handgun, and when she found it, she nudged Lexa's arm and placed it in her hand. Lexa supplied her a thanks. They sat in silence as the next few hours passed by. It wasn't long until the sun was supposed to be up, but with the storm, the sunrise remained hidden. The clouds appeared ominous in the sky as colors clashed furiously. Angry crashes struck from the sky and shook they very floor they rested on over and over again. Every flash illuminated just enough to be able to see Lexa staring at Clarke, and Clarke staring at Lexa as if they were afraid the other would disappear in the quiet darkness.

"Is it weird that I'm so afraid?" Clarke asked, her voice almost as quiet as a mouse. At first, Lexa didn't say anything, and made Clarke question if the brunette had fallen asleep.

"It's a terrifying world, Clarke. You'd be crazy not to be" Lexa replied softly. Was Lexa also afraid? Clarke would have never thought. Lexa held a strong natural power that made her appear unbothered by most things. She thinks back to when they found the priest hanging in the church, and wonders was Lexa was truly feeling if she could hide her emotions so well.

"I can't seem to figure you out, Lexa" Clarke sighed, though she spoke more to herself than the woman lying next to her. She wished she could see Lexa's face, because maybe then Clarke could discern what was on the woman's mind. Then again, she wasn't sure she could look Lexa in the eye after what had just happened.

"There isn't much to figure out" stated Lexa, but Clarke shook her head, not that Lexa could see it or anything.

"There's always more than what meets the eye. I'm usually good at reading people, but you, Lexa, are an enigma. A mystery that I can't solve" Clarke explained as she focused her gaze on the window. If she had paints and a canvas, the view would be a perfect sight to recreate. It was so beautiful, yet so mind-boggling, much like a certain brunette.

"Perhaps you don't have enough clues" Lexa deduced, and Clarke raised her brow in surprise. "What is it that you want to know?"

"What's your favorite color?"

And so, a small game of twenty questions began, though there were more than twenty questions. Clarke learned that Lexa enjoyed the color red, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches was her favorite snack, favored winter over Clarke's preferred season of spring, and was suspended from high school under false pretences. Lexa learned that Clarke enjoyed all the colors the world could offer, except brown and yellow, made ham sandwiches for lunch every day, and nearly got expelled when cops showed up at a party where she was far beyond crossfaded. Luckily she had snuck away while other party goers were being questioned.

Most of the questions remained light hearted and simple, like what was their zodiac sign, or favorite holiday. Lexa was a Capricorn, and she enjoyed thanksgiving the most. Clarke eventually got bored with the simple questions and moved on to the more adult ones. It felt as if she were in 8th grade again at a sleepover.

Lexa had been a little more weary in how she answered these questions, but wasn't shy in admitting she gay, and Clarke wasn't surprised. Lexa's first date was in high school with a boy when she realized, after he had accidentally spilled scalding coffee all over her, that she could never see herself with a man. She was, although, shocked - for lack of a better word - to find out that Clarke was bisexual. It was then that the blonde concluded that Lexa's gaydar was severely underdeveloped.

With smiles and occasional laughs, the clouds blocking out the sun began to dissipate, and Clarke could finally revel in the toothy grins Lexa radiated. All awkwardness had been thrown out into the wind when Clarke told the story of how she'd almost lost her virginity to a boy who climaxed within only a few minutes of grinding. She earned much hearty laughter from the brunette as she joked about how the boy had boasted about the many conquests notched on to his belt.

Lexa was truly a sight to behold. All their worries were whisked away and replaced with the light Lexa produced with her smiles. Clarke had never seen Lexa look so free. It was addicting to watch the brunette throw back her head and cackle at the blonde's witty remarks regarding failed sexual interactions.

Though Lexa never shared any of her sexual experiences, but Clarke didn't care. She figured Lexa had to have had sex. She was so beautiful in this moment that it was hard for Clarke to resist her. It was too hard not to meet those glowing olive orbs, or adore the flush spread across those amazing cheekbones. Lexa was a catch, and any woman would be caught in the charm of her laughter. Heck, Lexa was a lady killer for sure. A stud. A player of hearts on sleeves.

From the words of Queen, sung to the high heavens by Freddie Mercury himself, Lexa was a killer queen, gunpowder, gelatin. Dynamite with a laser beam. Guaranteed to blow your mind, anytime. Recommended at the price. Insatiable an appetite. Lexa was a Bohemian Rhapsody. She made the rocking world go round. All the jailhouse rock medlies turned into radio ga ga around this woman, because she surely sat in the lap of gods.

It was a dangerous territory for Clarke to enter. The last time she began to feel something like this, it was with a shaggy haired boy with doe eyes and a smile that could smite one down without the help of a cherub armed with heart shaped arrows. She had lost this boy to a fate in which he did not deserve. Though Clarke was almost certain that this world couldn't beat down the sharp edge that was Lexa like it had done with Finn. She commanded life with a simple quirk of her eyebrow, and it never ceased to bring awe into Clarke's azure eyes.

By the time they wrapped up their game of "twenty" questions, the pitter patter of rain had ceased and the low rumbles of thunder were far off into the distance. They shared a can of beans before packing up their bags and shrugging them up their shoulders. While the blisters on her feet were still ever so present, Clarke still walked with a pep in her step. She was finally beginning to unravel the mystery that was Lexa.

Lexa seemed to be feeling the same way, because she was just as energized as Clarke was. It was a far cry from the pace she'd been going the day before. Clarke was forced to reconsider what fate had planned for her back when she first met Lexa. She'd assumed it was telling her that people weren't a requirement to live a full life, considering how cold and closed off Lexa had been. But now, the thought of being alone was even worse than ever before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I saw Bohemian Rhapsody yesterday and I was so mesmerized by it that I just had to include that one paragraph.  
> Currently running on about 3 hours of sleep within the last 24 hours so I haven't read this over and I hope there aren't mistakes (Still open to constructive criticism, if you have any) as I stated in the summary, this is kind of like a filler chapter, but I wanted to develop their relationship a little bit more before I actually introduce the plot fully. This chapter does kinda lack Geeks, but again, that comes more after they're done with there little paradox of a journey.   
> Thank you for putting in the time to read this chapter and I'm ever so grateful for your guy's loyalty. Leave a comment on what you think of this chapter, and feel free to call me out on anything outlandish (possibly politely, but...)  
> May we meet again, my dudes.


	5. Have a Nice Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone please keep your hands and feet in the vehicle the whole time. This one's a heckin' rollercoaster   
> A bit of angst here, a bit of banter there, and a bit of Clexa everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 7,438
> 
> Chapter rating: 18+ for mentions of suicide, swearing, gore. yadda yadda yadda

Clarke adored children. They were little balls of shining innocence. Nothing in the world could ever equate to the blissful beauty of a slumbering child. When she was ten, she told her parents that she wanted a baby, that she was ready for the responsibility. They simply laughed and bought her a fish bowl and a pretty beta she named Mimzy. They told her that as long as she always took care of Mimzy, she could one day have her own baby. Of course, the fish died two years later, and she learned where babies came from by Annie.

Clarke always told herself that she wanted two children. One boy and one girl, and equal balance. They would be blonde and blue eyed, just like her. Her son would play football, and her daughter would play soccer. She would attend every game, accompanied with her father, and would be even more proud than him, if that was possible. Of course, these children of hers were fictitious, and she was thankful for that.

Having children in this world wasn’t safe, and felt cruel to introduce a small innocent child to the horrors lurking in the darkness. Clarke had witness first hand how the children were impacted by all these changes. It was heartbreaking to see such young faces gaze up at her in confusion as to why daddy was being chewed on by the neighbor, or without the youthful light in their eyes. 

At the first military base, Clarke had watched over the younger children with a few others. There were only two really young kids at the ages four and five, but there were more eight to ten year olds. Luckily only a handful were orphans, but now, Clarke wasn’t so sure they were even alive. She hated to think about it, what it would be like to watch her child die. She didn’t have enough strength to stick around for Raven.

At the second military base, Clarke spent more time around the teenagers. She didn’t really feel as much for the teenagers as she cared for the younger children. As horrible as it sounded, Clarke had only been out of her teens for three years. She had only just grown out of her stupid teenage years, and there she was, practically reliving them. They were just as angsty and dramatic she had been, and it was a rather sour taste in her mouth.

But there was one thing she always did, whether it be a child taking a nap, or a teenager having fallen asleep during Bellamy’s lecture. She woke them up in the warmest way possible. There were countless instances where children woke up from nightmares screaming. To coax them down, or wake them up, she placed her hand on their cheek, caressed with her thumb, look them deep in the eye, and told them they’re safe, or to wake up. Of course, she still met a few bad reactions, but they calmed down at her warmth.

Clarke hadn’t initially thought to wake Lexa up this way. She didn’t seem like the type to need it, but after she’d been punched, she knew she needed a different method. The second morning she went to wake up Lexa, she stayed true to her word when she said she’d wake the brunette up by poking her with the end of a broom. She was still a little pissed for being punched, and, well, it was kinda funny. Lexa didn’t think the same, though, because she grabbed the broom and threw it at a cackling Clarke. 

Though it was just about 24 hours since she accidentally woke Lexa by misfiring her pistol. That really wasn’t as funny as the broom, or funny at all. It had scared Clarke so much that when she scavenged for food, she made an effort to find candles. Determined not to spend the night in darkness, she found a few, and began reading the Giver for a second time. People didn’t keep many books, and whatever book she found, didn’t seem interesting. Many were non fiction and trashy novels. She preferred books akin to John Green, or one particular book by Stephen Chbosky.

The sun began to break the surface of the sky, which resembled one of the many calm Minnesotan lakes. Though the stars and milky moonlight were a stunning sight to behold, dawn was a whole other phenomenon. It meant more than just another day. It meant that Clarke had lived to see the sun rise up once more, and how beautiful it was. It felt so uplifting, no pun intended.

Clarke dog eared the book in her hands, and placed it besides her bag. The house they took shelter for the night wasn’t much different regarding layout. The furniture, decorations, and mood were all different, but there was always a living room with one sofa and two lounging chairs, and a coffee table in the middle. The sofa was shoved up against the front door, and Lexa slept peacefully in one of the reclining chairs.

It was time to wake the woman up, and the blonde felt apprehensive. She really didn’t want to wake her up and get punched again. Clarke hadn’t looked at her face in the mirror since then, and was sure a bruise shined on the bridge of her nose. If not, she could still feel some pain whenever she touched it, so it was still healing. The second punch would be sure to hurt more.

Clarke approached the brunette cautiously. The soft glow of sunrise bathed Lexa in it’s pale yellow waves, illuminating the features of her face. Clarke reached out to wake the brunette, but paused when she realized how close she was to Lexa’s face. She was so close that she could make out the tiniest of faded freckles dappling across the bridge of her nose. Little baby hairs strayed from her braid and curled by those greek statue-like cheekbones. It was truly a shame to have to wake up someone so comfortable just to live another day in this hell.

Lexa deserved better than this world. She deserved better than the previous world. After all the things she learned about Lexa, Clarke could only wonder what it was like inside of her mind. Was she haunted by her memories like Clarke, or was she shoving them to the darkest corner of her mind so that she could survive another day? She so desperately wanted to see what kept Lexa putting one foot in front of the other, because Clarke had no clue how she managed to do it herself.

“Lexa” Clarke mumbled softly, placing her hand on Lexa’s cheek. “It’s time to wake up” she continued, caressing her thumb over the smooth skin. 

Lexa inhaled sharpy, and her eyes shot open with alarm. Her natural instinct kicked in and grabbed Clarke’s wrist. The blonde stood unwavering as those green eyes bounced wildly across her features before landing on her blue gaze. Upon realizing who had woken her, Lexa let out the breath she had been holding. Her jaw, on the other hand, remained tense.

“Good Morning, sleepy head” Clarke cooed, removing her hand from Lexa. The ex marine remained silent as she stared up at the blonde with a look of astonishment. It was like Clarke had completed an outlandish accomplishment. If she did, nobody told her about it.

Slightly perturbed by Lexa’s silence, Clarke walked back over to her bag and began packing up her candles. It wasn’t like she had much else to pack, so when she looked back up at Lexa, the woman had barely moved an inch. Her brows knitted in deep thought, and stared out the window as if it would have the answers she was looking for written all over it. 

“Lex, c’mon. Our journey awaits” Clarke sighed in monotone. Lexa snapped out of her daze just in time to see Clarke shrugging the straps of the backpack on to her shoulder. The cogs clicked into place behind those emerald eyes, and she was on her feet in a matter of milliseconds.

Clarke had never seen Lexa like this. Sure, she had seen the former marine get lost in her thoughts, but now? It was unusual for her to be distracted upon waking up. She always was up and packed way before Clarke was. 

“How many more days do we have to travel?” Asked Clarke as she watched Lexa fling the backpack over her shoulder. The ex marine grabbed the pistol off of the coffee table where Clarke left it, and shoved the nozzle in the back of her waistband.

“We’ve been moving slower than I anticipated” Lexa began, an edge to her tone. “We might have one more day added. So, after today, about two” She continued. Clarke grimaced at the number. The past few days felt like a million years.

They vacated the house moments later and descended down the paved road. Neither spoke to the other. The look in Lexa’s eyes were so far off, as if they weren’t currently on the same planet. It was a sharp contrast to the day previous. After misfiring the gun, it became easier to talk to the ex marine. Whatever walls that had been stripped then were now built taller than ever. 

It was frustrating, in a sense. Just yesterday, Lexa spoke freely like a bird liberated from it’s captor. She told Clarke about the kind of music she liked - which was obviously all the emo anthems - preferred cats over dogs, never wore makeup, never had a phone, started smoking when she was sixteen, hates when people smacked their lips, loved the movie Peter Pan, and much more. It seemed silly that Lexa had been so guarded in the first place. She was just as normal as everyone else. Though Clarke knew that Lexa wasn’t worried about whether or not someone judged her on her past. The one thing Clarke had yet to discover was why those walls existed. They were so ominous, clouded by a darkness, and was clearly haunted by an angry spirit.

In light of every tiny detail revealed by the ex marine, Clarke couldn’t say she saw the brunette the same way she used to. Lexa had just been the stranger pointing a gun at her, but now she was Lexa who dreamed Peter Pan would come to her window one night and take her away from the life she had no control over. Clarke found that one little fact most endearing, though. Lexa had been so vulnerable in that moment, and Clarke thought it to be one of the most beautiful things about the brunette. Big bad Lexa, who could probably kill someone without batting an eye, had a soft spot for a Disney movie. 

They traveled for about four hours before they stopped to eat a can of beans from the duffle bag they found. They didn’t taste the best, because they were cold, but Clarke tried not to think about it. It was some of the best food they had in awhile.

“Lexa,” Clarke began, turning to the woman who finished her beans. “What are you thinking about?” She asked after having battled in her mind whether or not she should say something about the ex marine’s quietness.

“Many things, Clarke. Things you wouldn’t understand” She replied, refusing to look at the blonde. Clarke struggled to hold back a scoff.

“Try me” the blonde challenged. Lexa narrowed her eyes as she focused on a tree.

“I’d rather focus on the journey than chat idly” Lexa responded. Clarke struggled not to keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. She wasn’t in the mood for another day with broody Lexa. Not after she saw the person she was on the inside.

“You seemed to do that just fine yesterday” Clarke replied sarcastically, sitting up from the car to stand in front of the brunette. Lexa’s jaw tightened as the blonde spoke. By the looks of it, she wasn’t in the mood to handle Clarke either.

“Yesterday was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said any of the things I did” said Lexa, trying to step past Clarke, but Clarke wouldn’t let her.

“Why? Because you felt something?” Clarke fired back. This made Lexa stop dead. Clarke hesitated. Her heart began to pound with anticipation as Lexa stood there silently. 

When Lexa turned to Clarke again, those olive orbs burned into her skull. They were laced with something dark, something evil. Wrath consumed those eyes into a roaring tropical storm. Clarke bawled up her fist as she felt her soul quake upon seeing the entrance to hell’s pearly gates reflecting back at her. 

“I felt nothing. You don’t know anything about me” Lexa replied, and her words dripped with toxicity. Clarke drew a long breath to steady her nerves before squaring her jaw.

“You can’t lie to me, Lexa” the brunette straightened her posture as Clarke spoke. “I know you felt something” Clarke took a step forward. “You felt something for that priest when you cut him down,” Another step, Lexa backpedaled. “You felt something when I asked you who died to make you think that love was weakness,” and another step, Lexa’s calves hit the car. “And you’re still haunted the shit from by your childhood” Clarke could begin to see Lexa’s mask crack under pressure. “You’re afraid. You may act like nothing ever affects you, but I can see right through it. You’re just a scared little girl inside”

Lexa held her chin high as she took the brunt force of Clarke’s words. Her jaw was clenched so tight that her teeth could snap at any moment. She stared Clarke down her nose as she dug her nails into the fabric of her pants. The blonde couldn’t look at the ex marine anymore, and turned around. She took a few steps away from Lexa to recollect herself. Her fingers ran through her long golden mane and closed her eyes to focus on breathing normally.

Once her breathing was back under control, Clarke turned back to see Lexa staring up at the sky. She could see the shaky breaths the brunette let out. A twinge of guilt rose in the back of her mind, but Clarke pushed it back down. She was tired of Lexa treating her like she didn’t understand anything. Sure, Lexa was still a bit of a mystery, but Clarke wasn’t that clueless. She saw things, and she understood.

“We should get moving. We’re wasting daylight” Clarke said, pulling Lexa’s attention from the sky.

“What makes you think I still want you to come with?” She asked, sounding strong, but the look in her eyes betrayed.

“For the same reason I’m still going. You wouldn’t have told me that stuff about you if you wanted someone to understand” Clarke responded. Lexa didn’t argue.

-

The rest of the day was almost silent. Neither spoke unless it was required. Clarke didn’t mind it this time. She had said all she wanted to say. There was much Lexa wanted to say, though. Clarke could see it on her face whenever she turned to meet Lexa’s eyes. 

The air around them was thick with tension, but Clarke was used to this feeling. Whenever her mother was around, it almost always felt like this. Clarke always felt like she needed to prove something to her mother. That made it hard for her to enter a loving atmosphere like the one she shared with her father.

“You remind me of someone” Lexa said into the darkness.

They had found a small trailer park just in time for the sun to set. They didn’t have enough time to check every trailer for geeks, or other resources, so they settled in one of the smaller ones. Instead of using the couch to bar the door, they slid an old wooden entertainment center over to it. It was heavy, but it didn’t have to be pushed much. 

“Tell me about them” Clarke replied, looking towards Lexa. She cocooned more into the blanket when a cold gust from outside weaseled it’s way through the faux 70s wood panels.

“I was 16,” Lexa began, and Clarke could hear the strain in her voice. “She was one of my foster parents. After I got suspended, the current home I was at told my social worker that they didn’t want me around their ten year old because I was a bad influence, even though I told them I didn’t do it” she continued.

“What did you do supposedly do again? I don’t remember you telling me” Clarke pointed out before Lexa went on.

“I skipped one of my classes and sat under the bleachers. There were a bunch of stoners smoking when I got there. They offered me a weed cigarette, and before I could say anything, the janitor found us. They thought I was smoking weed because I smelled like it” Lexa explained, and Clarke nodded along even though Lexa probably couldn’t see it.

“Would you have said yes if the janitor never showed? And I thought you couldn’t get into the military if you smoked weed once” Clarke questioned. She could barely see Lexa in the moonlight. She had contemplated on lighting one of her candles, but the couch was too comfortable to leave.

“No, I wouldn’t have. I tried it once before and I didn’t like the feeling. And they never found out. There’s actually a lot of people in the military who’ve lied about smoking weed” Lexa went on. 

“Okay so back to this person” Clarke quickly said after. She found it kinda interesting that Lexa actually tried cannabis, though most people she knew tried it at least once. It wasn’t as surprising as it felt. 

“Well, I didn’t expect to be placed in a nice home because I assumed people don’t usually want some kid who got suspended for smoking weed. They were a young couple who just got their foster license, and they were actually nice people. The husband’s name was Charles, and he worked a lot, so he wasn’t around much. The wife’s name was Costia” Lexa paused. Clarke noticed the pained look on the ex marine’s face. This was clearly a sore subject for the brunette.

“She was a really sweet woman. She often spoke to me about school and asked me if I wanted to go out and do something. For only being 24, she was really good at mothering me. She’d make sure I got enough to eat, helped me with homework, paid some of my class fees. Most homes just gave me something to do and let me be. She asked me about boys one day and I just told her I was gay without thinking” Lexa paused again, and Clarke held her breath. 

“Was she homophobic?” Clarke quickly asked, sitting up. She didn’t care how cold it was. She didn’t stand for homophobia. Once she punched one of her teammates on the soccer team for calling her a dyke. Her mother was pissed when she got the call, but her father laughed and gave her a beer.

“No,  _ she  _ wasn’t. She was actually supportive, and I told her about a girl that was flirting with me. Costia suggested that I take her on a date, so I did. I brought her home after and Charles was there.  _ He _ was the unsupportive one” Lexa continued, and Clarke could feel her nails imprinting crescent shapes on her palm. “He called me a bunch of slurs, and before I knew it, I was packing my things again”

“That must have been awful” Clarke muttered, though more to herself than Lexa. She couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if her parents weren’t supportive. She didn’t like the image of 16 year old Lexa being called slurs either.

“You were right before, Clarke. When you said I was afraid” Clarke furrowed her brow at Lexa’s words. “I’m afraid to care about something that might be there one day, and be gone the next” 

“So you shut everyone out” Clarke concluded for her. The moonlight gleamed in those green orbs, making them look more beautiful than before. Lexa looked down at her hands for a moment before shaking her head.

“No. Not everybody” She looked up at Clarke, and for once, she looked so small. “Not you” She said under her breath. Clarke raised her brow, taken aback. She wasn’t sure she had heard that right.

Clarke wasn’t sure what to say. In this moment, Lexa’s walls have been stripped down, and she could see the vulnerable meadow waiting behind it. It was so beautiful, so raw, yet so terrified. Lexa appeared to be struggling to accept what she had just said.

“Well…” Clarke began, trying to find her voice. “Then the people at your camp must all have sticks up their ass. They’re too busy trying to get out theirs that they don’t notice the fork in yours” She said trying to lighten the mood, but narrowed her eyes when it didn’t sound the way it did in her head.

“Wow, you’re real funny, Clarke” Lexa replied in the most monotone voice Clarke had ever heard. She struggled to hold back her laughter and failed to notice the smile on Lexa’s face. 

“I’m a hoot. You just keep me around for my lovely wit, admit it” Clarke laughed as she threw a pillow in Lexa’s direction. The ex marine hadn’t expected a pillow to be thrown at her, and smacked her dead in the face. Like in the cartoons, the pillow lingered on her face for a few seconds before sliding off. Lexa looked appalled, but Clarke learned it was fake when a smile threatened those full lips.

“You’re insufferable” Lexa scoffed comically. “I keep you around as bait for geeks in sticky situations” she continued, and met another pillow to the face. Clarke couldn’t hold back a snort when she heard Lexa’s muffled oof.

“Well I have been told I’m pretty tasty” Clarke mused, giving Lexa a toothy grin complete with her tongue poking out a bit. Lexa shook her head while laughing with that heavenly laugh.

“Jesus, Clarke” She said between laughs.

“That’s what she said” The blonde quickly responded. This time it was her face that was hit with a pillow.

“You’re the worst” Lexa sighed, regaining control of her laughter. It was such a lovely sigh. Music to Clarke’s ears, really. Happiness really was an attractive look on Lexa’s face, even though she could barely see it.

Silence fell between them, but it was a comfortable silence. Clarke wrapped herself in the blankets again, though she wasn’t as cold as before. The laughter had warmed her up a bit. It took only seconds to feel nice and cozy.

“Lexa,” Clarke began. She earned a hm of acknowledgement from the brunette. “About that group with the sticks in their ass…”

-

The morning rolled around faster than Clarke liked. She ended up talking to Lexa too long and got less sleep than she preferred. When it was time to wake up the ex marine, Clarke considered letting her sleep a bit longer so she didn’t have to do all that dreaded walking. She decided against it, though. Right now, their relationship was on good terms, but it was on thin ice.

Clarke woke Lexa up the same way she did the night before, though the reaction was different. The sharp inhale was the same, but her eyes flickered open and landed right on Clarkes. Those intelligent green eyes resembled the freshness of a rainforest just after it had rained. It was a breathtaking sight, and Clarke felt herself lingering for too long. Lexa didn’t seem to notice, but Clarke pulled away embarrassed. She wasn’t sure what made her linger like that. Well, she knew it was those eyes, but she didn’t want to believe it.

They began their journey yet again, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel like something was going to happen. Sure, something always happened, but the dawn brought something ominous to the air. Evil was lurking in the shadow of the trees. She ignored it, and focused on all the information Lexa had provided to her.

Lexa’s group was… complex. She told Clarke that a few of them were at one of the many military bases, but theirs fell around the time Clarke’s first home base fell. They traveled until the gas ran out of their vehicle and made a home on a farm. The house was too small for everyone to live there with their own space, so they took shelter in abandoned box cars just across from the farm’s barn. 

The group grew with time. They either found people while scavenging for food, or people found them while traversing north. When the group started to get too big for everyone to coexist peacefully, they split into three. One group stationed in the barn, one settled in the house, and Lexa’s group laid claim to the abandoned box cars. They held an election for each group and chose one person to represent them. To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa was her group’s elected official, though it made sense as to why she wanted to get back to her group so bad.

Lexa went on to inform Clarke on the kind of groups based off of their leaders. The group residing in the barn was lead by a ruthless middle aged woman by the name of Nia Kween who kept her people on a tight leash. The group who populated the house was lead by an elderly man named Dante Wallace who was kind, though when it came to politics, he could be stubborn in his beliefs. Lexa, of course, lead the group living in the box cars since they were the largest of the three.

When Lexa left to search for resources, tension was thick between the groups. Ever since Lexa purposed the three way split, Nia despised Lexa. She wanted to rule the entire group. The only way they managed to keep peace was through Dante. He supported Lexa and often backed her up on certain decisions, leaving Nia undermined.

Clarke still wasn’t sure what to expect when they got there. Lexa wasn’t even sure how things would be either. In the event of a leader’s death, another person is elected in their place. Lexa had faith in her group, but held reservations. Certain people in her group tended to lead more with their heart than their mind. When it comes down to the toughest decision, logic, in Lexa’s opinion, was the best route to keep people alive.

“So, how many people are in your group again?” Clarke asked. She had fallen asleep while Lexa was talking, so there was some information she missed out on.

“Eight, but two are children” Lexa answered, stepping over a giant log in their path. They opted to travel through the forest for the sake of speed.

“What are the kids like?” asked Clarke with a grimace. She couldn’t imagine what those children have been through.

“Well, Madi is 15. She thinks she’s strong enough to go on supply runs and insists on me taking her with. She was one of the people who lived on the army base with me” Lexa began. “And Aden is only 12. He’s a good kid, but he’s still recovering from the loss of his parents. We ran into them while we were searching for supplies. Aden’s mother was bit, and his father was delirious. He tried to shoot Aden, and then shoot himself” Clarke felt her jaw go slack.

“Jesus” she muttered under her breath.

They plunged deeper into the forest when a small cabin came into view. They used the opportunity to stop and rest for a while, since they still had plenty of forest to cover.

The cabin wasn’t anything impressive. The outside was worn from years of use, and the door was practically falling off its hinges. Lexa stepped in first, and as the door creaked open, a foul smell made Clarke gag. Lexa covered her nose with her sleeve and entered with her pistol ready.

There wasn’t space for much. The entire cabin was one big room with a bed, kitchen, and a couch. Slumped against the wall next to the fridge was the source of the wretched smell. Clarke grabbed on to Lexa’s arm when her eyes befell the tragic scene. Yet another man couldn’t stand to live in this world, and the proof decorated the wall with his brain matter.

“Clarke,” Lexa said, pulling the blonde’s attention from the dead man. “You must close your heart to it” she continued. Her tone was warm and comforting as if she knew exactly what Clarke was thinking. 

“It shouldn’t have to be like this” Clarke shook her head.

“I know, but we can’t think about that right now. Focus on the future” replied Lexa, looking into Clarke’s eyes while she spoke. She then broke away from Clarke and walked into the kitchen. She began to rummage through the few cabinets, and Clarke turned back to the dead man.

It was hard to look, but it was also hard to look away. There had been times where Clarke came close to meeting a fate similar to this man’s. This man had died alone, and his last thoughts couldn’t have been pretty. She never wanted to end up like that. As long as there was a hope for humanity, Clarke would do her best to survive in this world.

The blonde turned away from the dead man and focused more on her surroundings. There was a small table pushed against the wall in the kitchen, and sitting atop it’s surface were many mechanical devices that Clarke recognized as foot traps. Their spokes were long, but narrow, and rusted over from time and use. She wondered how long the man had used these to trap animals and survive here before he had enough. 

“There isn’t anything useful here” declared Lexa, who turned to watch Clarke observe.

“I can’t say I’m surprised” Clarke replied as her gaze landed on a photo magnetized to the fridge. In the photo was a man wearing a blaze orange vest with his arms wrapped around a toddler wearing a hat to match. Clarke took one last look at the dead man, frowned, and turned to leave the cabin without another word.

Lexa remained on Clarke’s heels and together they vacated the little cabin. Neither wanted to be in there longer than needed. They sat outside of the cabin, stretching their legs and massaged their feet. The blisters were still as painful as ever, and both women were starting to get leg cramps. Clarke even woke up with a charlie horse once, and that wasn’t the most pleasant experience, though she thought Lexa to be charming when she fretted over the blonde. 

“So do your people take kindly to strangers?” Clarke asked, making an attempt at small talk.

“It depends, but since you’re with me, I don’t believe they’ll see you as a threat” replied Lexa as she applied new bandaids to the tender blisters. They had found scooby doo band aids in one of the trailer homes, and it was practically their saving grace.

“You know, with those bandaids, you don’t look as tough anymore” Clarke pointed out.

“So you’re saying I look tough?” Lexa asked, turning to Clarke with an amused smirk.

“Oh don’t act so humble on me, Lexa. I honest to God thought you would shoot me the first two days” the blonde responded with a matter-o-fact tone. Lexa let out a small chuckle.

“Can’t say I never thought about it” Lexa joked. Clarke rolled her eyes as Lexa pulled her socks back on. She let out a pained grunt when she slipped her feet back into her combat boots. She stood up and offered a hand to help Clarke up to her feet. The blonde gratefully accepted the gesture. Lexa pulled her up as if she barely weighed a thing.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like to speak much, you can be pretty annoying” said Clarke while grabbing her backpack.

“Are you implying that you don’t want me to speak, Clarke?” Lexa asked, cocking a mischievous brow. Clarke paused to pretend to think about it before a toothy grin took over her facade.

“Oh, not at all” Clarke rasped, shaking her head. She turned around on her heels and began walking towards the forest, leaving both Lexa and the conversation. When Lexa hadn’t followed, Clarke paused and turned her head enough to see the brunette in the corner of her eye. The ex marine was staring at her with a tiny smile on the corner of her lips.

“Are you coming, stud?” Clarke asked. She wasn’t blind to the color building on the ex marine’s cheeks.

“Yeah, sorry” Lexa responded, and with that, they were back on the grind.

The fall leaves crunched under their feet as the cabin slowly disappeared behind them. Birds fluttered from branches, squirrels scuttled from one tree to another, and mice burrowed into the leaves. The world felt more alive traveling through the forest than on a rode. It was a lovely change of scenery.

“Are you still going to leave when we get to my camp?” Lexa suddenly asked, dodging a bush with thorns. Clarke was taken by surprise by the question and failed to notice the bush. Profanities filtered through her mouth as they scraped and poked through her jeans.

“I didn’t realize that was an option” Clarke responded. Having not learned the lesson of watching where she was going, since she chose to glare at a thorn bush as if it had deliberately grown there for the sake of inconveniencing her, tripped on a root sticking out of the ground. Her fall was anything but graceful, and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of a face full of dirt.

Luckily her face never hit the ground. Instead, strong arms had wrapped around her torso just in time. She grabbed on to Lexa’s arms to help regain her footing. A loud exasperated sigh flowed through her.

“You really need to watch where you’re going, Clarke” Lexa said, throwing a glance over to the root.

“Thanks commander obvious. I’ll be sure to walk more carefully, just for you” Clarke sneered sarcastically. The brunette rolled her eyes playfully, but her face suddenly dropped. Clarke stood blinking in confusion as to why Lexa had stilled. She opened her mouth to say something, but the look Lexa shot her froze the words in her throat.

They stood quietly for a moment. Clarke didn’t really know what they were waiting for until a throaty gargle nearby answered her question. There was a geek somewhere, but Clarke couldn’t see it. There weren’t that many trees surrounding them, so it couldn’t be that hard to spot. 

Lexa readied her knife. Clarke mirrored the brunette and strung up her guard. Another gurgle came closer, but differed from the previous tone. The two women exchanged a few looks, silently agreeing to add some space between them to keep from getting flanked. While the geeks weren’t smart enough to collaborate an attack, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Clarke turned her back to Lexa for a moment to survey the surrounding foliage for impending enemies. The blonde could hear the leaves crunch under Lexa’s boots as she took a few steps backwards. Clarke’s heart began to pound harder and harder with each passing second. The air suddenly became thick, and a tiny twinge of fear imposed the blonde’s thoughts.

All the sounds in the forest simultaneously ceased at once, and in that moment, Clarke heard a metal click. A bloodcurdling scream filled the clearing. Clarke whipped around just in time to see Lexa falling backwards. The blonde’s instinct kicked into gear. She raced towards Lexa as fast as she could.

Before she could reach Lexa, a hand caught her ankle and sent her face first into the dirt. The impact rattled her brain and left her in a daze. She tried to blink away the dizziness fogging up her vision, but the shock proved a difficult opponent. The clawing at her leg resumed, pulling her back into reality. A fearful shriek erupted from her as she turned to see a geek knash it’s teeth hungrily at her ankle. She flailed her legs desperately, kicking it in the face, but her actions didn’t phase the geek.

Panic pulsed through Clarke’s veins. The geek’s grip was strong, and every time she managed to kick off one hand, another blindly tugged on her jeans. She looked around wildly for her knife, but it was nowhere to be seen. She shoved her heel into the geek’s jaw to push it back, but it’s teeth caught on the rubber. Her leg shook at an attempt to free herself, but the geek’s jaw was secured tightly on the rubber. Clarke tried to pull herself backwards when she felt something metal bump her hand.

The next few seconds were a blur. Her body acted purely on survival instincts. Her free foot toed away the shoe the geek feasted on with furious eyes. It occupied itself by lapping at the blood stained insole from her blisters like a starved animal. She gripped the handle of her knife with white knuckles and surged forward, plunging the point into the top of it’s skull. The body went limp under her, it’s tongue still hanging out of its mouth.

Clarke crawled back from the scene. Her chest heaved with quick inconsistent breaths, and her heart pounded so fast that it felt like it was going to explode. She sat frozen, staring at the dead body as if it would rise again at any moment to finish what it began. Bile threatened her throat, and she turned to release whatever substance resided in her stomach. 

“Clarke!” Lexa shouted, bringing the blonde back to reality. She looked up to see a second geek racing towards Lexa with a ravenous look on it’s face. 

Clarke struggled to get back up on to her feet. She looked up to see Lexa fumbling to get out her gun. Pushing her legs to get to Lexa in time, her shoeless foot slid on the dead leaves, sending her back down to her knees. Desperate, she pushed herself to go faster.

“Lexa!” Clarke heard herself scream, her voice horace with terror and fatigue. The geek launched itself down towards the brunette, whose leg was caught in one of the foot traps from the cabin. Clarke felt her stomach drop when a shot rang through the trees.

Clarke scrambled over to Lexa. The body of a geek laid limp on top of her as she stared up towards the sky in shock. Clarke pulled the body off, placing her hand on Lexa’s cheek. The brunette flinched at first until she realized who was next to her.

“Are you okay? Are you bit?” Clarke quickly questioned. Lexa only managed to shake her head. Clarke drew in a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, and let the exhale flow through her body. She rested her forehead against Lexa’s, noses bumping carelessly, and closed her eyes. She took in the very feeling of Lexa still being there, alive, and not bit.

“Thank god” She breathed out. Lexa’s hand made it up to Clarke’s and laced their fingers together before pulling them off of her face.

“Clarke,” Lexa began, but her sentence was cut short by a pained groan. The blonde quickly sat up, suddenly realizing that there was still a trap digging into Lexa’s leg.

“Shit, I’m sorry” She muttered, approaching the trap. Luckily it was a small game trap. If it had been meant for bigger game, Lexa wouldn’t have a foot. She stepped on the trap to try and open it, but her efforts proved useless. Clarke’s arms were still shaking from adrenaline, and the rust on the metal contraption didn’t make it easier.

“Just pull it out of the ground for now. Any geek nearby would have heard that gun shot” Lexa informed, wincing as the trap shifted around her ankle. Clarke nodded, taking action quickly. She pulled the stake that had kept the trap in place with much more ease.

Not wanting Lexa to put any weight on the injured foot, Clarke wrapped an arm around the affected leg, and wrapped another around Lexa’s back. The brunette snaked her arms around Clarke’s neck as the blonde summoned her strength to lift the ex marine.

“We can go back to the cabin. It’s safer there than out here” Clarke said, stabilizing Lexa on her good foot. Lexa kept one arm around Clarke’s neck, and Clarke kept one arm around Lexa’s back.

The way back to the cabin too much longer, but both women were exhausted. Clarke felt like she was an old, faded cloth going through the laundry every day for years and being rung out each time. Lexa, on the other hand, struggled not to panic when she didn’t feel her toes wiggle, even though they did. She just couldn’t feel it.

They practically crashed through the front door of the cabin when they got there. Clarke almost didn’t get Lexa to the couch. The smell no longer bothered them as much. Clarke tried opening the trap once more, stepping on the perspective sides. She pushed the metal spokes away from Lexa’s foot just enough for her to pull it out. Clarke let the trap spring shut once Lexa was free.

“I thought you left me” said Lexa to Clarke, who began putting pressure on the bleeding wounds. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did” she muttered. Clarke furrowed her brow and purposefully put too much pressure on Lexa’s foot.

“Don’t say something like that. I could have never left you in that way” Clarke replied. “It would have been barbaric” she closed her eyes at the thought.

“It’s surviving” Lexa replied, earning another squeeze from Clarke. She winced and furrowed her brow.

“You know, you really ought to stop saying stupid things to someone who’s catering to your wounds” said Clarke with attitude. Lexa rolled her eyes and sat back into the couch like a pouting child.

“Alright, good news. It’s not broken. That trap is meant for smaller animals. If your leg was the size of a fox’s, it would have snapped” Clarke explained as she continued dabbing at the blood. The wounds were deep, but she managed to get most of the bleeding under control.

“I’m sensing there’s a but” Lexa stated. “Lay it on me, doc. Am I gonna die?” she half joked and earned a glare from Clarke.

“This isn’t funny, Lex” Clarke deadpanned. “You have a great risk of getting an infection. The bone is still probably cracked, so you won’t be able to move it if you want it to heal properly, and I hope to God you got your tetanus shot”

“You called me Lex” Clarke looked up at Lexa with a dumbfounded look.

“Is that really all you got from what I just said?” Clarke hissed.

“No wonder why you didn’t become a doctor. You have the worst bedside manner in the world, Clarke” The brunette earned another squeeze to her ankle. She yelped this time.

“I wonder how it never crossed your mind to become a comedian, since you think you’re so damn funny” seethed Clarke as she poured water on to a cloth to dab away any debris that would infect Lexa’s leg. The blonde could feel the muscle on Lexa’s calf strain every time the cloth met the angry flesh. When Clarke finished cleaning, she wrapped Lexa’s foot with the cleanest looking fabric she could find. She grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and elevated the brunette’s foot.

Clarke collapsed into the empty cushion beside Lexa. With eyes closed, and breath flowing at an easy pace, she let herself be consumed by the couch. Her upper body slid to press against Lexa’s arm. She didn’t open her eyes to look at the brunette for her reaction. Lexa was alive. Lexa was okay. Lexa wasn’t going to die.

“Thank you for not leaving me” Lexa mumbled, her voice laced with a wave of fatigue.

“Thank you for not dying, Lexa” Clarke replied, feeling just as tired as Lexa sounded. 

Moments later, they fell asleep, and the next time Clarke opened her eyes, she was drooling on Lexa’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm running on less sleep than the last chapter I posted. Probs a shit ton of errors, too, but that's fine. Maybe. I didn't read this over. 7,000 is too many words to read for someone who's been up for over 24 hours. Anyways bla bla bla, Thanks so much for reading. Leave a comment on your thoughts, hopes, and dreams. All that good stuff  
> and Hey! redid the summary because my ass realized it honestly didn't give any indication to the plot  
> also, did you notice my clever pun? "Have a Nice Trip" HAH I'm so funny  
> until we meet again, my dudes


	6. Queen of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a few moments to gather your heart. This chapter contains clexa moments and their individual pasts. There's emotions here and there. And at the very end, a surprise (though maybe not for some of you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 7,598
> 
> Chapter Rating: Well there's some nudity (not super explicit) so take caution, you innocent minds.

    Clarke always loved the piggy back rides her father would give when she was younger. The most memorable instance was when she was about seven years old. Her mother had agreed to run in a race against breast cancer in honor of Clarke’s grandmother, who had died from it. Jake hoisted Clarke up on his shoulders so she could see over the sea of heads gathered around the finish line. Clarke never actually saw her mother run the race. She was too distracted by feeling like she was on the top of the world.

    Though she never favored being the person carrying the other. Clarke didn’t have much muscle, and lifting people over a hundred pounds was a feat worthy of praise. She’s fallen over way too many times to ever agree letting another person crawl on to her back. She knew it looked pathetic, but her pride often contorted the fear of possibly falling over and scraping a knee. Piggy back rides were simply dumb and childish, was what she would say whenever anyone asked.

    And yet, here she was now, in one of the most unforeseen circumstances, walking down the road with Lexa clinging to her like a koala. It wasn’t entirely unforeseen, though. Clarke didn’t ask for this torture. Lexa was heavy as hell, her feet were probably caked in the blood from her blisters, and damn did her back ache.

    This was all Lexa’s fault. Clarke had wanted to wait a day to rest Lexa’s leg, but the brunette proved to be more stubborn than herself - a feat worthy of recognition. All Lexa said was that if Clarke didn’t want to come with, she could leave. Of course, Lexa didn’t actually want Clarke to leave, but she put mind over heart and tried hobbling out of the door without the blonde. It was like watching a fawn learn how to walk for the first time.

    Clarke managed to convince Lexa to wait long enough to find the injured woman a stick to put her weight on. The stint the blonde had fashioned around Lexa’s leg wouldn’t be able to handle any weight, not that she was going to let her do that anyways. Lexa’s leg needed to heal properly, and since Clarke didn’t have access to a medical facility to check the leg out properly, she assumed the worst. The bone wasn’t broken, but there could be a possibility that it had been cracked or bruised.

    They made it a ways down their path until Lexa almost doubled over. Clarke should have known that Lexa wasn’t the type to vocalize pain. She tried to get Lexa to take a break, but the brunette insisted on continuing. _We aren’t far from the next town_ , Lexa had said. _We can take a break when we get there_ , she had said.

    And so Clarke gave in. She put her own stubbornness to good use and insisted that she give Lexa a piggy back ride. The ex marine tried to decline, but this time it was Clarke who proved to be unwavering. She regretted it now. Ten minutes later, and Clarke was on the verge of tapping out. Her body was not designed to do this.

    “How are you so damn heavy” Clarke groaned, struggling putting one foot in front of the other.

    “Muscle” Lexa replied. She pulled herself up on Clarke’s hips again, having started to slip from the blonde’s grasp once more.

    “ _Muscle_ ” Clarke scoffed under her breath mockingly. She didn’t believe it entirely. The human body cannibalized muscle first in the face of starvation, not fat. If it weren’t for those strong thighs wrapped around her hips, Clarke would have never considered that this woman really was all muscle.

    “Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke” Lexa deadpanned. The blonde felt her eyes roll to the back of her head.

    “Says the one who insults my bedside manner” Clarke clapped back. Color graced her cheeks at the vibrations of Lexa’s low chuckle against her back.

    “I was merely stating a fact” Lexa replied warmly. Clarke couldn’t actually see it, but she knew Lexa was smiling. Well, okay, she liked to _think_ that Lexa was smiling. She probably wasn’t.

    “You know, you seem to have a bad habit of messing with someone going out of their way to help you” Clarke said between breaths. God, Lexa was heavy. She thought their traveling was a workout before, but now it was like she was put into a blender. The muscle in her legs felt like they were a thread away from severing.

    “Not really” Lexa responded, sending a chill down Clarke’s spine with the way her breath tickled the blonde’s neck. “Though it is entertaining” Her words were right next to Clarke’s ear now. If she wasn’t already hot and sweaty, Clarke was sure Lexa would have noticed how betraying Clarke’s body was being.

    It was weird. Clarke never entertained any thoughts pertaining to Lexa in a sexual way. That was, of course, before they were in this position. For a while, Clarke craved intimacy. This wasn’t exactly the kind of intimacy she desired, but it was damn near close, and she felt a twinge of guilt. Something as simple as a piggy back ride shouldn’t be making her fantasise those soft lips grazing her sensitive ears.

    “Alright, I’m putting you down now. You’re too heavy” Clarke groaned, loosening her grip on Lexa. She held up Lexa’s wounded leg long enough for the brunette to stabilize herself on her good leg. Clarke turned to her with a relieved sigh.

    “I’m not that heavy, Clarke. Don’t be so dramatic” Lexa responded, crossing her arms. Her brow lifted with an inquisitive look.

    “You’re sorely mistaken if you think that I’ll stop being dramatic just because you tell me to” Clarke sassed. She plopped herself down in the middle of the road, letting another relieved sigh as she spread herself out on the asphalt.

    “Rebellion is adorable on you” said Lexa sarcastically. Clarke mustered an offended look before her true amused nature cracked the facade.

    “I don’t remember getting on my knees and bowing to you, commander tight ass” replied Clarke with a devilish look. Lexa’s cheeks colored from embarrassment. She’s either not used to having this kind of conversation, or being sassed back. It was probably both.

    “Aren’t you on your knees often, Griffin?” Lexa asked, not bothering to acknowledge her embarrassment. Clarke let out a surprised laugh and sat up quickly, a bewildered look contorting her face.

    “Was that a sexual innuendo I just heard?” asked Clarke in disbelief. Her eyes met those beautiful olive green eyes before they tore away from Clarke’s to find something more interesting on the ground.

    “Contrary to popular belief, Clarke, I’m not a stone cold bitch” Lexa responded, sounding ever so slightly sheepish. If Clarke hadn’t been focusing all her attention on the woman standing, she would have missed it.

    “I never really thought you were a bitch, Lexa” said Clarke, pulling the woman in question’s gaze back to her. “You’re guarded, yes. But you’re passionate, and I admire that” she admitted. Clarke’s gaze flickered down to Lexa’s lips to see them parted in either astonishment or a response failing to vocalize. When she looked back up into Lexa’s eyes, they were trained somewhere else on the blonde’s face with a beautiful vulnerability.

    Clarke tore her gaze away from Lexa when she felt her heart rate pick up. She focused on stretching her legs, groaning at the burning sensation, and struggled to put the image of those beautiful eyes in the back of her mind. Now was not the time to be thinking about that kind of stuff, especially about Lexa. She was just lonely. That’s all it was.

    After a while longer of stretching, Lexa insisted that she could walk on her own for a while. Clarke found her another sturdy stick, and then they were on their way. The town was much further away than anticipated, and when they got there, they found a house and collapsed. Lexa’s injury had slowed them down considerably.

    Lexa recalibrated their estimated time of arrival and concluded that their travels would be extended to two more days. Clarke was half tempted to explore the town for some sort of wheelchair so that she wouldn’t have to carry Lexa the rest of the way. Hell, she was tempted to find two so that she wouldn’t have to walk at all. Their journey should have been over by now, and oh how her moral suffered from it.

-

    The next day of traveling was just as exhausting as the previous. Lots of walking, carrying, and groaning. They spoke every so often, talking about parts of their past. Clarke learned that, in Lexa’s group, the conversation on past lives was frowned upon like an unspoken rule. Clarke didn’t think it made much sense, but Lexa went on to explain how the past didn’t matter anymore. Clarke figured that it actually did, but chose not to argue about it.

    The past did matter, even if it was a separate era. Just because life was no longer the same didn’t mean everybody was suddenly different. Clarke felt like the same Clarke she was but with more baggage. Heavy baggage that probably wouldn’t be allowed on a plane. As much as she would love to ignore the giant suitcases containing her past, it shaped her into who she was now, and it continued to do so. They were just as much as apart of her life as all the baggage before.

    Clarke chose to share with Lexa her time living on the military bases. She left out a few details, like the deaths of her parents, and the uprising she caused at the second base. Lexa didn’t seem surprised to hear that Clarke had worked with children, since Clarke had been rather maternal towards Lexa after her injury.

    Clarke had failed to mention Bellamy. She spoke about Finn, and Raven, though left them nameless because Lexa couldn’t possibly know who they were anyways. It was easier to talk about them without saying their names as well. Because if she said their names out loud, it would feel all too real. That they were truly gone.

Bellamy was too hard of a subject to bring light to. He was such an influential power in Clarke’s life, and a fraction of her morals had been tailored by Bellamy’s passionate heart. He was a good man with good intentions, even if sometimes it didn’t seem that way.

    Though it felt good to mention Finn. She told Lexa that she had been in love with him for a while. He, like Bellamy, was a good man with good intentions. He was loyal to Clarke, though wasn’t always as loyal to other people. She vaguely remembered Bellamy and Finn getting into a hushed fight with each other while looking at her. Clarke never knew what the fight was about, but she had an idea.

    Clarke’s relationship with Bellamy was strictly platonic… for most of the time. There was one instance where they were talking to each other about the love ones they lost during the development of their friendship. He had told her of an ex girlfriend in high school that passed away from breast cancer, just as Clarke’s grandmother had. He told her about a friend he had known since kindergarten get eaten by a geek, just like Clarke’s father. Their grief was so similar that it felt like nobody understood them like they understood each other in that one moment. One kiss lead to another, but it stopped when Bellamy couldn’t “get it up.” He viewed Clarke too much like a sister, and she viewed Bellamy too much like a brother.

    Clarke had told Finn about her and Bellamy’s dare to pass a platonic level when they started being more than friends themselves. Finn didn’t like the idea much, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel like she wedged a crack in the boys’ friendship. It wasn’t entirely her fault, she knew that. It was Finn who had the problem, and often distrusted Bellamy around Clarke. It was a bit frustrating, but Finn had been so suave that she chose not to acknowledge that insecurity.

    After the conversation of Finn, Clarke told Lexa about why she abandoned Raven while they searched for food in one of the houses.

    “I left someone” Clarke said, scrounging around in the cabinets. “A month and ten days ago, I left a friend I’d known for years all alone” she stood up on her tippy toes to see a can of condensed milk pushed up against the back.

    “Why?” Lexa asked, though she knew why. Clarke had said it on the day they met, that it was easier to be alone, but she knew there was more to it.

    “I was weak. I couldn’t handle seeing another person I cared about die” explained Clarke as she reached out to grab the can. She tossed it to Lexa who sat on the kitchen’s island.

    “You regret it” Lexa observed. She didn’t have to ask. She could see the pain on Clarke’s face while she spoke.

    “It’s the biggest mistake I ever made, and I’ve made plenty” Clarke replied, moving on to the next cabinet. It was empty.

    “We all make mistakes, Clarke. It’s what makes us human” said Lexa while placing the condensed milk next to a can of beans the blonde found prior.

    “It feels like everyone around me dies. I didn’t want that for her, and I don’t want that for you” Clarke admitted, turning to see Lexa watching her. “It scares me, because you almost did” she breathed, clearly afraid of the thoughts it brought. Unable to meet Lexa’s eye, Clarke found a scuff mark on the floor and entertained it with her attention.

    “Hey,” Lexa began with a warm voice. “Look at me” she said, trying to coax Clarke’s attention back to her. When the blonde didn’t move, Lexa let out an audible exhale.

    Since the kitchen island wasn’t far from the counter Clarke leaned up against, Lexa reached over to grab the draw strings dangling from Clarke’s hood. The blonde let herself be pulled in between Lexa’s legs, but refused to pull her gaze away from the scuff mark. She was afraid that if she were to meet the brunette’s eyes, she wouldn’t be able to contain the tears blurring her vision. Her eyes fluttered shut when Lexa’s soft fingers pushed a golden stray hair behind her ear.

    Lexa tilted Clarke’s chin towards her, and the blonde could feel her defenses slipping. A tear betrayed her plea not to show weakness. Before it could travel down to her clenched jaw, Lexa swept it away with her thumb. When she opened her eyes, blinking a few more tears down her cheeks, she met those eyes. Those wonderful intelligent green eyes that reminded Clarke of her favorite watercolor paint, hooker green.

    The way those eyes sliced into her soul rendered verbalization needless. Clarke couldn’t tear herself away. No. She didn’t want tear herself away. There was so much Lexa was saying, and Clarke couldn’t wrap her mind around how it was possible. She isn’t going anywhere, she understands, and that it’s going to be okay. Clarke could see all those things in the brevity of Lexa’s soul. It was so enchanting, yet so overwhelming.

    Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa and pulled the woman closer to her body. She clutched the black fabric until her knuckles turned white. Lexa’s hands found their way to the back Clarke’s neck, playing with the tiny baby curls at her hairline. She never felt so comfortable in her life. She hadn’t felt this understood since Bellamy.

    _How do you get me?_ Clarke wondered. It was unbelievable how Lexa could simply unravel her with a single look.

    “I see a lot of myself in you, Clarke” Lexa said as if though she could read the blonde’s mind. “You put other people before yourself. You bare the weight of the world on your shoulders so that others don’t have to, and it hurts. It hurts a lot, but you do it anyways, because you care” Clarke summoned the strength to look Lexa in the eye. The brunette drops one hand to Clarke’s shoulder, and the other rests where her neck and jaw meet.

    “And that’s what I admire about you” said Lexa softly, her thumb caressing Clarke’s jawline comfortingly. Her eyes were hooded with pure sincerity, and Clarke couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful it was. How beautiful Lexa was. How beautiful her _soul_ was.

    Everything about this woman was so endearing, yet so terrifying. So so terrifying, but Clarke couldn’t lie to herself like she had before. She didn’t feel this way because she was lonely, or because she craved intimacy. She felt this way because every day since they met, Lexa has been slowly saving her from herself.

    Clarke could only stare at Lexa bewildered. Lexa had taken the weed Clarke watered with bullshit excuses and uprooted it, working to free her mind of the mutualistic roots that provided unhealthy ways of thinking. This is right here, vulnerable in the eyes of Lexa, was what Clarke had been missing since Bellamy’s death. This was why her month alone never truly felt justified.

    “You’re so…” Clarke began, pausing to think of the right word. “Benevolent, Lexa…” She trailed, furrowing her brow. She just realized something. Lexa gave her an inquisitive look.

    “Sorry, I just realized you never told me your last name” Clarke blushed, biting her bottom lip. Lexa blinked with surprise before a smile crawled up to her lips. She closed her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head. No laugh an angelic cherub could muster compared to Lexa’s.

    “Alexandra Reginleif Woods is my full name” Lexa explained when she stopped laughing, though that smile remained. It was so warm and tenderhearted that Clarke couldn’t help the way her heart skipped.

    “Reginleif? That’s a strange middle name” Clarke found herself saying, sliding her hands to Lexa’s hips mindlessly.

    “The name of one of Odin’s valkyries. It means daughter of the gods” informed Lexa, and Clarke followed with her own warm laugh.

    “That’s oddly fitting” Clarke pointed out. She pulled Lexa off of the counter, careful not to bump her bad leg. Lexa cocked her head like a curious puppy and prompted Clarke to let out another laugh.

    They left moments later with their condensed milk and beans.

-

    It was their last day of walking, according to Lexa’s calibrations. Clarke was a bit skeptical until Lexa actually showed her on the map where they were and where her home was. On the map, it didn’t look a long ways away compared to how much they’d traveled so far. Clarke thought it strange that Lexa’s group ventured so far from camp, and when she asked Lexa about it, the brunette wasn’t sure herself. It wasn’t her idea.

    Clarke was nervous again. She was worried whether or not people in Lexa’s group would like her, or do what Lexa had done when they first met - point a gun at her head. It wasn’t a pleasant thought or memory, even though it all turned out okay in the end.

    Lexa appeared pretty tense as well. She had that look on her face that Clarke called the “smelling farts” look, which she attributed to one of the actions she did in theater during a suspenseful moment, or when she needed to remember a line. She wasn’t sure if Lexa was excited or fearful of returning home. Why she would be fearful was beyond Clarke, though she had to have had reasons.

    Clarke attempted to alleviate their tension by making more small talk. She asked if Lexa had ever met her real parents, or knew who they were. She immediately thought she’d overstepped, but Lexa didn’t seem bothered by the question.

    Lexa told Clarke that Costia helped her find out who her parents were. Lexa’s mother was 16 years old when she got pregnant. Her father had been 19, and apparently Lexa’s grandparents weren’t thrilled about it. They sent him to jail, and shortly after Lexa graced the world, her mother overdosed on heroin. Lexa’s grandparents didn’t want anything to do with their daughter’s “bastard child” as Lexa put, and they stuck her in foster care.

    Clarke was mortified by Lexa’s answer, but the brunette didn’t seem bothered by it one bit. She told Clarke that she made peace with it, and that there was no use missing what she never knew in the first place. Clarke could only marvel in Lexa’s strength. She couldn’t possibly imagine what her life would have been like if she didn’t have her parents. She’d tried many times, but after all those attempts, she simply concluded that she wouldn’t really be Clarke if Jake hadn’t been around.

    To try and lighten the mood, though more for her sake, Clarke asked Lexa about her favorite childhood memory. Lexa explained that when she was eleven, the foster family she was living with went on a road trip to see relatives for Thanksgiving a few states over. They sang along to songs on the radio for the first few hours before getting bored. Even though their son - related by blood - didn’t like Lexa all that much, they formed a truce and played cards. There was a beautifully distant look on Lexa’s face as she spoke about how much they joked around had fun like she was truly apart of the family.

    Clarke didn’t pry, but she wondered what happened. With the way Lexa spoke, it sounded as if she loved being apart of that family. Something bad happened, that much Clarke could discern. Deep within that distant reminiscent look, there was a pain in those eyes. A pain that spoke of regrets and betrayal.

    Clarke hated to think about how much Lexa had been through. She didn’t deserve to suffer from all the things she’d been through. Clarke was certain of it, even though she hadn’t known Lexa that long. There was so much passion hidden in that often stoic expression. All Lexa wanted was to get back to the family she found. Her loyalty to them was admirable.

    They spoke a while longer with Clarke sharing her favorite childhood memory as well. She had many good ones, and it was hard to pick just one. Lexa nodded along as Clarke reminisce on how she felt every time her father would lift her up and perch her on his shoulders. Clarke didn’t notice, but Lexa was listening with the smallest smile.

    By the time Clarke finished her stories, there was a small house erected by a river in the distance. Clarke took a glance over in Lexa’s direction and noticed how much the woman struggled to wobble along. She suggested that they take a break at the house. Lexa gave her a reluctant look.

    “C’mon Lex. You look like you’re going to faint” Clarke pointed out as she came to a stand still. Lexa wobbled up to her and straightened her posture.

    “I’m fine, Clarke” Lexa replied, squaring her jaw. She did that thing where she held her chin high and looked down her nose at Clarke as if she were superior.

    “Lex…” rasped Clarke as she approached the stubborn woman. “Let me give you another piggy back ride over there. We don’t have to stay long. I hate seeing you in so much pain” she continued, tucking a stray strand of hair behind the brunette’s ear. Lexa’s hardened gaze flickered back and forth between Clarke’s eyes. There was something deep in those olive green eyes that Clarke couldn’t put a finger on.

    “Fine” Lexa sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. Clarke could see how wounded the woman’s pride appeared every time she gave in. If she were in Lexa’s position, Clarke would have felt the same. They were both proud women, and accepting help wasn’t always an easy feat.

    Clarke took Lexa’s stick and turned around. She kneeled for Lexa to wrap her arms around the blonde, and seconds later, her thighs followed. Clarke struggled to get on to her feet, but the stick helped support some of the weight. She pulled her blonde hair out of Lexa’s face so that she wouldn’t get a mouth full of it. A shiver rattled her spine when Lexa’s nose buried into the back of her neck.

    The walk wasn’t long considering the house wasn’t more than two football fields away. Clarke was rather grateful for it. Lexa was still heavy, and she was no more stronger than before. When they approached the door, Clarke let Lexa down. It was a relief, really. She could feel Lexa’s hot breath on the back of her neck the entire way.

    “Lexa,” Clarke began as they made themselves comfortable in the living room. Lexa acknowledged her with a hum, and the blonde looked down at her hands. “You think I could wash off in the river? I probably look really gross” she asked, fumbling with her father’s watch. She looked up to see Lexa sizing her up. Clarke felt her cheeks color with sudden embarrassment.

    “I think you look fine” Lexa shrugged nonchalantly. Clarke wrinkled her nose in disapproval.

    “Maybe to you, but I look and feel gross. It’s been over two weeks since I last bathed. If I’m going to stay at your camp for a while, I want to at least give a good first impression” explained Clarke, struggling to meet Lexa’s eye. Why was she so nervous?

    “You’re going to stay?” Lexa asked slowly as if she wasn’t sure if she heard Clarke right.

    “Well yeah. I kinda figured I should stick around to make sure your leg heals properly” Clarke said, trying to sound nonchalant about it. She nervously anticipated Lexa’s rejection.

    “Okay” Lexa replied. Clarke finally met her eyes.

    “Okay?”

    “Yeah. I should probably wash up as well. Hygiene is important. I suppose I’ve been a little more concerned with our journey to really consider it” reasoned Lexa with a shrug. A sheepish smile tugged on Clarke’s lips.

    “Okay. I’ll go find us some towels and shampoo” Clarke declared while standing up. “Why don’t you go find some clothes to change into” she purposed and handed Lexa her walking stick. The brunette nodded, and they split ways.

    Clarke ventured into the house’s bathroom after checking a few doors. She grabbed a half full bottle of lavender scented shampoo and conditioner, and a bottle of aloe scented body wash. In a cabinet next to the shower were towels that were soft to the touch and smelled faintly of fresh linens.

    Once she had all the supplies she needed, including a brand new razor in one of the drawers and men’s shaving cream, Clarke wandered out of the bathroom and towards the sound of Lexa rummaging through drawers. She paused in the doorway to watch Lexa pull out a plain black t-shirt, fold it, and place it on a pair of faded jeans on the bed.

    “Your taste in clothing is so exotic, Lexa” Clarke said sarcastically, making Lexa jump. The brunette shot her a scolding look.

    “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that” sighed Lexa as she grabbed the clothes and held them against her chest. “And I prefer a simple look, yes. The last thing I’m worried about is looking good while I’m being eaten alive” She deadpanned. Clarke felt perturbed by how serious the other woman sounded.

    “Well, here’s your towel” Clarke said, choosing to ignore the brunette’s words whilst handing her one of the fluffy towels. “I’ll meet you at the front door when I find some clothes”

    Lexa nodded in response and pushed past Clarke, leaving her to her own devices. The blonde placed her things on the bed where Lexa had placed her clothes and began to rummage through the dresser.

    There wasn’t much to chose from. All the clothes were pretty simple, and while she knew that Lexa had been right about looking fashionable in the current state of the world should be the last thing on her mind, she still wanted to look somewhat presentable. After an unreasonable of searching, Clarke settled on a blue flannel that reminded her of her father, high waisted faded black jeans, and a leather black belt to match. She gathered all her things and made her way over to Lexa, who supported an annoyed look.

    “You only took, what? A couple years?” Lexa asked after looking down at her wrist for dramatic flare. Clarke rolled her eyes and bumped Lexa’s shoulder playfully.

    “And you call me dramatic” said Clarke with a toothy grin. Lexa licked her lips and shook her head, but the blonde wasn’t blind to the smile ghosting the brunette’s lips.

    They meandered over to the riverside, pushing through thick bushes dawning beautiful oak leaf hydrangeas, though Lexa proved to wobble with difficulty down the steep river bank. Clarke had to put her things down on a large rock to help Lexa. Once the ex marine was stable, Clarke moved her things to a different spot so that Lexa didn’t have to sit in the mud.

    Clarke went first. She stripped off her ratted dirty clothes, and Lexa looked away to respect her privacy. The cold air embraced her skin which caused goosebumps to dapple her bare flesh. A shiver crawled up and down her spine when she dipped a toe into the freezing water. She closed her eyes and summoned as much courage as she possibly could before walking deeper into shallow river. Profanities filtered out of her mouth in regret. Why did she want to do this again?

    At an attempt to get used to the temperature, she plunged the rest of her body once she reached a mid thigh level. She resurfaced while filtering out more cuss words. Her arms curled around her tender breasts, clearly not loving the water temperature. She cursed again upon realizing that the shampoo and body wash were sill by her things at the river bank.

    “Lex, can you throw me the shampoo and body wash?” Clarke called out through chattering teeth. The woman in question glanced over at Clarke sheepishly before getting up from the rock and hobbling over to the pile of the blonde’s things.

    “Here” Lexa called, throwing the bottles at Clarke. Upon instinct, the blonde reached out to catch them. Clarke felt her chest begin to flush up to her cheeks when Lexa quickly turned around and stood ramrod straight.

    Not wanting to spend any more time in the freezing river than needed, Clarke squeezed out a giant dollop of the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner on to her palm and began massaging the suds into her scalp. The smell of lavender flooded her nose as she dunk her head again, washing away all the foamy bubbles that flowed into the river’s current. It was so refreshing to be washing away all the built up grime.

    “Clarke?” Lexa called out, making the blonde turn around. She gave Lexa a hum of acknowledgement when she noticed the ex marine still turned away. “You talk about your father a lot, but you haven’t really mentioned your mother”

    “Oh, well, there’s not much to say, I guess” Clarke replied, lathering on the body wash. “She worked a lot, missed many plays and soccer games. She almost didn’t make it to my graduation” she continued with a frown.

    “Was she the reason you wanted to go into medicine?” asked Lexa curiously.

    “I thought she was my hero growing up, but as I got older, I saw how much of a toll it took on her. She didn’t look happy or healthy. Ironic, isn’t it?” Clarke answered, washing away the suds from her body. “I wanted to be just like her…” She trailed, approaching the river bank. She grabbed her towel and began to wipe herself free of the water droplets.

    “But you changed your mind” Lexa concluded, earning a nod from Clarke even though she couldn’t see it.

    “I’ve been struggling with happiness all my life. I was afraid that I would never be happy as a doctor like my mother” explained Clarke as she pulled underwear up her legs. “When I dropped out of med school to pursue a degree in fine arts, she stopped paying all of my bills and made my life a living hell”

    “It must have been difficult” commented Lexa as she turned to see Clarke buttoning the last few buttons down the blue flannel and adjusting her pants.

    “I felt betrayed. My father kept insisting that she was doing it because she cared, but it often sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. They almost divorced because of me” Clarke rasped. She struggled to meet Lexa’s eyes. Those eyes had a way of making Clarke feel like she could spill out her entire soul.

    “Almost?” Lexa questioned with an inquisitive brow.

    “Before it was finalized, the world kinda ended. In some fucked up way, it brought us back together” Clarke answered with a passive aggressive scoff. She dried her hair a bit more before wrapping her long golden locks up in the towel. After, she told Lexa to sit so that she could unravel the stint.

    “I’m sure she did want the best for you, Clarke” Lexa said as she sat back down on the giant rock. “Even villains believe what they do is the right thing. I’m not saying that your mother is a villain, but we’re not that different from them. As humans, we’re naturally flawed. We believe that what we’re doing is the right thing” Clarke pulled up Lexa’s pant leg an untied the cloth wrapped securely around two wooden planks.

    “But it wasn’t the right thing” Clarke deadpanned, looking up at Lexa when her leg was free.

    “To you it wasn’t the right thing. To her, she believed your life would be better if you followed her footsteps. Every person is on their own level of understanding” Lexa said, glancing down at the bruised and scabbed over wounds before meeting Clarke’s eye again. “We do crazy things for the sake of ourselves and others”

    “Why are you telling me all this?” Clarke asked, standing straight. She wasn’t enjoying this conversation.

    “It didn’t look like you understood. You say your mother was unhappy. Perhaps your mother found her happiness in you and how much you aspired to be like her. When you didn’t want to share her legacy, there wasn’t anything to bond over anymore. She was afraid of losing the one thing that kept you together” Lexa elaborated, earning a scowl from Clarke. The blonde shook her head and tossed the stint next to Lexa’s pile of clothes.

    “I think you should go wash up now, Lexa. We’re wasting time” Clarke said, turning her back to Lexa. She didn’t want Lexa to be right. Clarke had come to terms with her mother’s loss long ago. Now her grief was threatening to return.

    Lexa didn’t say anything in response but simply obliged Clarke by stripping down. The ex marine hopped into the river, and Clarke heard an audible shutter from the other woman. The blonde sat on the rock and tried not to glance over when Lexa unraveled her braid for the first time. Lexa combed her long fingers through her brunette locks and the waves cascaded down past her shoulder blades were an intricate tattoo decorated her spine.

    Clarke shook her head, dispelling her curiosity towards the tattoo. She glanced down at her watch and focused on the brunette’s words. Somehow it all sounded logical, but it wasn’t fair. Abby was gone, and there was no way to repair their relationship. It was too late. This revelation was months too late, and again, it wasn’t fair.

    Lexa had no right to tell her those things. Lexa didn’t know her mother. She had no clue what Abby was like or what she’d done, and Clarke absolutely hated that, in some twisted way, she was still right.

    Clarke and Abby’s relationship was, in fact, based on Clarke’s education and medical aspirations. It was all that she could think of to reach her mother. Maybe she didn’t try hard enough to get her mother to acknowledge that she was more. Maybe she should have pushed harder to spend time with her mother beyond medical studies. It hurt never knowing that they could have been better to each other, that they could have understood each other.

    Clarke turned her gaze up to the clouds hanging above. Tears threatened to blur her vision. Frustration boiled in her veins, twisting her heart with agony. She missed her mother. She missed all the hugs her mother gave her after scoring high on tests and every time she would visit from college. She missed hearing her mother pull into the garage late at night and telling her good night before calling it a day herself.

    Abby was gone forever, and it hit Clarke like a freight train for the first time since she saw her mother lying in a pool of her own blood. She choked back a few violent sobs threatening to vocalize her anguish. Clarke refused to let Lexa see her cracking like this. There were other things that needed to be focused on.

    At an attempt to cool down her negative agitation, Clarke stood up from the rock, paced back and forth for a few seconds before coming to a stand still. She grabbed a piece of driftwood washed up on the river bank. Her knuckles grew white around the water treated branch and focused on pooling all of her anguish into the stick. With all her might, she sent the stick soaring off into the trees straddling the bank with a frustrated grunt.

    “Clarke?” Lexa questioned with alarm. The blonde jumped in surprise to see the brunette wrapped in a towel next to her.

    “Jesus, Lexa, you scared the shit out of me” Clarke sighed, clutching the fabric over her heart as if it would slow it’s panicked state. She hadn’t even heard Lexa step out of the river.

    “Sorry” Lexa apologized, wobbling over to the rock. “Why did you throw that stick?” She asked while reaching over to grab the stint by her clothes.

    “I, uh” Clarke began, stammering. “I thought I heard something. I figured I could draw whatever it was out, but it was just a squirrel” she quickly explained. She silently thanked her skill in improvising. Somehow her theatrical knowledge was of some use in this world.

    “Okay, well, can you tie my stint back on?” Lexa asked, though she didn’t look convinced. Clarke wiggled the rest of her frustration off of her fingertips and kneeled down in front of Lexa. She wrapped the cloth tightly around the wooden planks and earned a pained groan from the brunette.

    Clarke turned her back to Lexa as she dressed herself. When Lexa gave her the okay to look, Clarke turned to see the brunette clipping her dog tags back on. She pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and began braiding her wet brunette locks.

    “Why do you always have your hair up in a braid?” Clarke found herself asking. Lexa looked up at her, though keeping her head down as she twisted her hair intricately.

    “Convenience, I suppose. Having long hair is a liability. I’ve seen geeks capture women by their hair” Lexa explained as she braided one half of her hair up in a dutch plait.

    “I had that happen once” Clarke admitted, slightly memorised with how well Lexa could braid without a mirror. “I’ve thought about cutting my hair, but I’m a little too attached to it” She confessed with a shrug. Lexa looked up again through the hair dangling in front of her face.

    “I can braid it for you, if you’d like” Lexa suggested, and Clarke knitted her brow in consideration. Wasn’t she supposed to be mad at Lexa right now? She was, after all, the source of Clarke’s miniature breakdown.

    “Uh sure, why not” Clarke sighed, choosing not to let it get to her. Again, there were other things that she needed to worry about. The past is in the past, and she couldn’t do anything to change that.

    Lexa finished plaiting her hair into a crown braid with a few stray strands framing her face. It made her appear like the queen Clarke pegged her for. Not the delicate kind of queen, no. A real queen. A monarch fit to rule a kingdom without a king.

    “Do you have a preference?” Lexa asked as she moved for Clarke to sit on the rock.

    “Surprise me” Clarke responded with a shrug. Lexa observed Clarke’s hair for a moment before drawing a conclusion.

    Lexa was good at braiding. Most girls that Clarke let plait her hair were always rough and often hurt her scalp, but Lexa didn’t tug. She took Clarke’s comfort into consideration, and before long, Lexa was finishing up. Curious to see what Lexa did, the blonde reached into her backpack to pull out a compact mirror.

    “A milkmaid braid” Clarke mumbled to herself. She looked up to see Lexa pulling few flowers off of an oak leaf hydrangea just a few feet away with a hair pin poking out of her mouth. Clarke cocked a curious brow as Lexa approached her.

    “Hold still” Lexa instructed, and Clarke obliged. In the compact mirror she could see Lexa sticking the white flowers into her hair and secured them with the pin in her mouth. The brunette pulled Clarke’s chin away from the compact mirror and observed her work with a delicate look in her eyes.

    “You look beautiful, Clarke. They’ll love you” Lexa said warmly, moving one of the stray blonde strands framing Clarke’s face out of her eyes. The blonde felt herself gulp at Lexa’s close proximity. She ignored the blush crawling up her neck by busying herself with her backpack. She shoved her compact mirror back into the pocket it was once in, and decided to throw the razor and shaving cream in there for another date.

    “Speaking of, we should get going” Clarke declared, struggling not to sound flustered. She looked up from her bag to see Lexa still staring at her with a look she couldn’t put a finger on. “C’mon Lex”

    “Right” Lexa said, shaking her head to dispel whatever she’d been thinking.

    Without another moment to waste, they made their way back up the river bank whilst abandoning the towels and Clarke’s clothes. Lexa didn’t seem eager to abandon her black turtleneck sweater or military issued trousers though.

    They continued their journey across the bridge and down the old highway. They weren’t far now. The train tracks next to them were the very train tracks that Lexa said her abandoned boxcars were on. Clarke could feel the anticipation in the air between them as they walked for what felt like only a half an hour. She knew Lexa could feel it too, because every once in a while, the wounded soldier would anxiously pick up the pace even if it hurt.

    Upon squinting, Clarke could make out a house off into the distance. This had to be the house where the group lived. It had to be, or Lexa wouldn’t look as determined as she was.

    They got closer, and closer. Clarke could see the house better now. Her heart lurched when she made out the shape of people who appeared no bigger than ants.

    Closer and closer. Clarke could hear shouting in the distance. Figures started racing towards them. She turned to Lexa who gave her a nervous look, but a ghost of a smile sat on her lips.

    “We made it, Clarke” Lexa said with a croak of conflicted happiness. Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted.

    “Lexa!” A voice shouted. Clarke turned to see one of the figures approaching them with impressive speed. Her heart drummed against her chest with anticipation. She distanced herself from Lexa as the person came to a skidding halt in front of her.

    “You’re alive. You’re really alive” The woman said in disbelief. “And you’re hurt!” She exclaimed upon seeing the stint bound to Lexa’s leg. The woman whipped towards the Clarke with malice in her eyes.

    “Who are you?” She questioned through gritted teeth. “Did you do this?” taken aback by the sudden anger, Clarke took a step back.

    “Down, Anya” Lexa said with a commanding tone, making the woman falter. “This is Clarke. She saved my life” Anya’s eyes flickered in confusion.

    “Clarke” Anya said under her breath as her eyes narrowed. She looked Clarke up and down as if she were trying to remember the blonde from her past. Not sure what was happening, Clarke stood ramrod straight in discomfort. She’d never seen this woman in her life.

    The sound of other footsteps scuffed the asphalt, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to look at the other arrivals. She was afraid that if she took her eyes off of Anya for a moment, the woman would kill her.

    “Clarke?” a familiar voice questioned, making said blonde freeze. She looked to Lexa to see if maybe she had said her name, for what reason, who knows. Only that Clarke couldn’t turn. She couldn’t.

    But she did, and all color that once resided in her face drained.

    “Raven”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof another monster to write. I couldn't figure out which Chapter name I liked most. It was either Queen of the Gods, What I Admire, or What's Your Last Name, but I kinda liked the first one more. Let's be real here, Lexa is a damn queen and so is Alycia.  
> Sorry again if there are errors. I only read half of it and decided "What the hell" because I just wanted to get this chapter out.  
> I hope you enjoyed. Leave a comment on your thoughts, I really wanna know what y'all are thinking.  
> Maybe even leave a kudos? A little goes a long way, my pals  
> May we meet again, my dudes


	7. Salivating Teenage Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on, Please, Don't Die: Clarke and Lexa were still traveling... a lot... with piggyback rides. They talked a lot too. Lexa may have given Clarke a few heart attacks. They certainly gave each other gay ass heart attacks when they bathed. Then BOOM, Raven is still alive
> 
> And now: Clarke deals with seeing Raven again. Another person is here to shock the audience with their presence. Lots of people to meet, and many gay heart attacks are had with both women. Yes, that means Clexa moments (Idk what kind of clexa fic this would be without them. not a very good one, tbh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6,887
> 
> Chapter Rating: idk There's a risqué moment in this one ;)

“ _ You _ ” Raven hissed between gritted teeth.

There was two ways this could go if Raven was still the same Raven that Clarke left. The first way included Raven’s silence where she would completely ignore Clarke for however long she felt before entering the stage of passive aggression. The second way included lots of shouting, maybe even throwing something, and a bit of shoving. The ladder was assumed to prevail.

“Raven, I uh…” Clarke began, struggling to choke out her words as Raven stomped towards her. She looked the same as the last day Clarke saw her. Beautiful tan skin, thick brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, oddly perfect brows, and wide brown eyes.

“Fuck you” Raven rasped venomously. Her toxic words seeped into Clarke’s ears and irradiated her insides with fear. Clarke turned over to Lexa for help, but Anya was whispering something in her ear and tugging her arm.

“You left me, Clarke. You left me to die!” Raven continued, shoving a finger into Clarke’s shoulder. The blonde tried to keep her composure, but the fury deep in Raven’s dark eyes sent a chill down her spine.

“Can we maybe not do this right now?” Clarke managed to say after finding her words. Her heart pulsed hard on her ribs like an aggressive tap dance. 

“Are you kidding me? What, so you can fucking abandon me again? No, we’re doing this now” hissed Raven in response. Clarke tried to take a few steps back to add space between them, space for which she can breathe properly, but Raven accommodated each one.

“You left me to die alone, Clarke. You were the only one I had left, my best friend for  _ years _ , and you just abandoned me like I was nothing” Raven spat. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. It was all a dream, that’s it. She would open her eyes and Raven wouldn’t be there.

“I was there for you when Jake died, when Abby died. I was there to pick up the pieces after you shot Finn. I was there to keep you going when Bellamy was being slaughtered. So why? Was I not a good enough of a friend to you that you abandoned me? Help me to understand, because I fucking can’t” Raven continued, making Clarke reopen her eyes. Her heart lurched at Bellamy’s name. Frustration clouded her vision with unshed tears.

“I couldn’t watch you die, Raven” Clarke rasped through the lump in her throat. She struggled to gulp it down, but it only returned. The look in Raven’s eyes faltered, but she puffed up her chest and clenched her jaw.

Raven remained silent, staring Clarke down with a vicious glare that made her stomach churn. Her answer must not have appeased Raven, because the woman reared up her left hand and struck Clarke’s cheek with such force that the smack rang loudly. The blonde let out a pained yelp and reached up to touch the stinging flesh. She winced when the tip of her fingers brushed lightly against the angry handprint.

Clarke turned back to Raven and squared her jaw, ready to take the next slap. She deserved it, after all. She’d betrayed Raven, and no excuse in the world could justify her actions. All she could give Raven was the pleasure of smacking the next cheek.

The blonde squeezed her eyes shut when Raven readied her other hand. Her heart throbbed with anticipation of the next stinging sensation. When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes to see white knuckles wrapped around Raven’s wrist. She turned to Lexa bearing down on Raven with an intensity that rendered Clarke frozen.

“Violence is not the answer, Raven” Lexa rasped in a dangerous tone. Clarke gulped down the lump in her throat when Raven squared her jaw.

“You’re one to talk, _ commander _ ” spat Raven mockingly in response, tearing her wrist from Lexa’s steel grip. The ex marine inhaled sharply and looked down her nose at Raven as if her position of power was being threatened. Clarke couldn’t help but wonder what Raven meant.

“Raven” Anya hissed warningly to her. Raven turned to Anya and her shoulders deflated upon eye contact.

“We’re not done here, princess” Raven rasped to Clarke before turning on her heels and leaving everyone behind. Anya gave Lexa a reassuring shoulder squeeze with a promise to talk later before following Raven. 

Clarke took this moment to glance over at the person who had tagged along with Raven. He was a tall, very muscular, tan man with a shaved head and a tattoo behind his right ear. With his hardened brow and five o’clock after shave, Clarke figured him to be rather intimidating. She faltered when he approached Lexa. He took the stick from her hand and pulled her arm around his neck. It was then Clarke noticed the dog tags hanging loosely around his neck, drawing the conclusion that he had been with Lexa when they were forced to abandon their military base. 

“You two must be hungry” He suggested, thankfully not bringing up what had just happened. “Monty’s cooking up dinner right now. We should go quick before Jasper eats it all” Lexa looked down at the ground, and Clarke could see a faint smile playing on her full lips. His calm words had let the ex marine relax a little.

“Yes, lets go” Lexa said, looking up to Clarke. Her eyes lingered on the cheek Raven had slapped before meeting the blonde’s eye. She tried to give Lexa a warm smile, but Clarke’s unshed tears betrayed the portrayed reassurance. 

They began walking towards the camp, and Clarke began to smell a campfire. She lingered a few steps behind Lexa and the intimidating man, watching the way the ex marine limped beside him. She spent their short lived walk gathering her composure and steeling her emotions. If she was going to meet the rest of Lexa’s group, she needed to get her shit together. 

-

Clarke was utterly exhausted. She sat in a lawn chair with her eyes closed, listening to the warm crackles of the fire. The wind blew the smoke in her direction and she wrinkled her nose in distaste, but refused to move. She sat in this chair an hour ago, and she wasn’t about to move any time soon.

Lexa took a few minutes introducing everyone in her group the moment they arrived. The tall muscly man was named Lincoln. Monty, who had been mentioned by Lincoln, was a shorter man with black hair fashioned into an undercut, and dark almond shaped eyes. He gave Clarke a warm smile and handed her a bowl of green sludgy substance explaining that it was alge. She didn’t say anything and scooped up some with a spoon. It tasted foul, but she gave him her best smile to not offend him.

The next person to be introduced was a man named Jasper, who Lincoln had also mentioned. He was a tall, lanky man with short brown hair and thick eyebrows. If it weren’t for the stubble on his face and the tortured look in his eye, Clarke would have figured him to be a teenage boy. He cracked many crude jokes around the campfire while he ate lots of Monty’s algae before disappearing into one of the abandoned box cars.

After meeting Jasper, Lexa introduced - or reintroduced - Clarke to Anya properly. Anya stood taller than her with a hard brow and incredible cheekbones so sharp that they could slice anything. She had long blonde hair with dark brown roots pulled into braids at the corners of her hairline. Her black eyes remained emotionless as she held out a hand for Clarke to shake, but instead of joining hands, she grabbed Clarke’s forearm and thanked her for saving Lexa’s life. She turned on her heels and left as soon as she did so.

When Anya left, Lexa called attention to a teenage girl who happened to be entering their field of vision. Her piercing blue eyes met Clarke’s, as if they were a mirror of her own, with a head tilted in curiosity. Her long brunette braids resembled Lexa’s work, but a black tattered beanie hid the top of her head and adorable little ears. The smile she gave Clarke was bright, revealing canines that poked into the bottom of her bow shaped lips. She clasped Clarke’s arm, like Ayna had, and introduced herself in a respectable way that made Clarke think she took after Lexa somehow.

A blonde boy approached them upon seeing a stranger. He was a bit shorter than Madi and introduced himself as Aden, the boy Lexa had told her about. His stormy blue eyes resembled the tortured look Jasper supported, had thin blonde eyebrows, and a strong jaw for being only twelve years old. He stood tall, making his upturned nose look even more upturned, with his chest puffed out and hands behind his back. Like Madi, he also seemed to take after Lexa in some way. 

The two kids lingered around Clarke with an innocent curiosity and asked her a few questions, and by then, Lexa made her leave. They asked simple things, like what happened to Lexa, how they met, and what she did on her down time. She happily obliged in answering them, thinking their curiosity was adorable. She cracked a joke about Lexa being intense, and they laughed saying that she had that effect on people.

They spoke to Clarke a bit longer, and she learned a few things about them as well. Madi told her that she was learning how to fight by hand from Lexa, which perturbed Clarke slightly. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree with teaching Madi how to fight. She just didn’t enjoy the idea that someone so young had to learn how to fight in order to survive.

Aden proved to be a bit more shy in telling Clarke things. He explained that Lincoln was teaching him how to fish, how to hunt, and how to navigate using the stars. When the sun set, and the stars began to dapple the sky with their twinkle, he pointed out a few of the constellations. She tried her best to see them, but when she couldn’t find them, she lied. His accomplished smile was too adorable to ruin with honesty. 

Raven came over when Aden was trying to show Clarke where Draco was. She told them that it was their bed time, and before they left, they gave Clarke a bright smile and said their goodnights. The latina took a seat in the lawn chair beside Clarke and remained silent. They stayed that way for an hour before Raven said anything.

“I kept your note” She rasped, watching the flames flicker before them. Clarke opened her eyes and turned to her. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say.

“Why?” Clarke asked when Raven didn’t say anything more. The brunette looked down at her hands as she rubbed her knuckles anxiously.

“Because it was the last thing I had of you. I didn’t want to think you might be dead somewhere” she explained, refusing to look up at Clarke.

“I’m sorry, Raven. I never should have left. After Bellamy died, I couldn’t watch you die too. It was selfish of me to think that I was doing us a favor by leaving. I’m not strong enough to survive without at least thinking you were alive out there somewhere than knowing you’re lying dead in an ally or wrapped up in a sleeping bag with a bullet in your head” Clarke said, her voice growing horace with each sentence. Raven turned to her, and she quickly looked away. She couldn’t look Raven in the eye, not after everything.

“After you left, I kept following the river. I ran into these guys and they took me in like a lost puppy” said Raven, refusing to acknowledge Clarke’s apology. “I wouldn’t have survived without them, Clarke” the blonde summoned her courage to meet Raven’s eye. Her heart tore gruesomely in two upon the sad gaze lit by the flickering fire. 

“I didn’t think for a second you wouldn’t. You’re strong, Raven. Stronger than I could ever be. And smart, and crafty too. I used your Rod of Wonders quite a bit until it broke” she earned a chuckle from Raven.

“You should see Raven’s Rod of Wonders 2.0. It’s sturdier and much more easy on the eyes than the last” 

“Is that so?” a small smile rose on Clarke’s lips. 

“Have you met everyone in our group yet?” Raven asked, changing the sore subject. Clarke furrowed her brow upon realizing that she only counted seven people as opposed to Lexa’s promise of eight.

“I don’t think so. You have eight other people in your group, right?” Clarke asked.

“Yes. Who haven’t you met?”

Before Clarke could answer, the loud screeching of a box car behind them interrupted. The blonde squinted through the darkness to see who it might be. The figure approached them, but stopped when she saw Clarke.

“Hey Ray. Who’s this?” The woman questioned, approaching Raven’s side. Her long brunette hair was pulled into two small braids on each side with the top part pulled back and free of plaits. Atop her light green eyes, which were almost hidden behind her lashes, were perfectly shaped eyebrows. Her strong jawline attached to a beautifully long neck, and the tiniest of dimples clefted the tip of her chin.

“Oh boy. You two haven’t met” Raven said with a Cheshire smile. “Clarke, this is Octavia. Octavia, this is Clarke” she introduced. Clarke furrowed her brow in thought. She’d heard that name once. Where, she couldn’t remember for the life of her.

“Nice to meet you, Octavia” Clarke said, nodding her peasantry. Raven gave Clarke a dumbfounded look. She let out a hefty sigh before grabbing Octavia’s shirt and pulling her down. The woman let out a disgruntled noise, but let Raven frame her face in front of Clarke’s.

“Alright Griffin. Take a nice long look at this beautiful mug. You’ve seen it before, I know you have” Raven said, earning confused looks from both Octavia and Clarke. “Doesn’t she remind you of some roguishly handsome dude with floppy brown hair wearing military fatigues religiously and a smile that could make any woman swoon?” 

“You’re…” Clarke paused, looking back and forth between Raven and Octavia before widening her eyes with revelation. “You’re Bellamy’s little sister” Clarke murmured to herself. God, this was not happening. This day just kept getting weirder, though not as weird as seeing her first geek during a pizza delivery. That was a whole other weird.

“You knew my brother?” Octavia asked with a bewildered look.

“Oh they were quite chummy pals” Raven elaborated, earning a glare from Clarke.

“Yes, we were friends. He spoke very fondly of you” Clarke replied to Octavia. The more she looked at her, the more her resemblance to Bellamy surfaced. They had the same long neck, same dimpled chin, same perfect eyebrows, same wide and pointed nose. It was terrifying to be able to see his ghost in the face of his sister’s.

“Wow, I didn’t think…” Octavia paused before a thought crossed her mind. “Wait, where did you come from?” She suddenly asked.

“Oh right!” Raven exclaimed, grabbing both of their attention. “She saved Lexa’s life, apparently” Raven explained.

“Lexa’s  _ alive _ ?” Octavia questioned in surprise.

“Very much so” Lexa said, appearing out of nowhere and scaring the three women nearly out of their skin. Clarke clutched her chest, breathing hard in order to calm her nerves. Lexa really had to stop scaring her. One of these days she’ll piss her pants, and it won’t be pretty.

“Christ Lexa. What’d I say about sneaking up on people” Clarke hissed while willing her heart to stop pounding. A mischievous glint flickered in the ex marine’s eyes but hardened upon observing Raven and Octavia.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I wasn’t walking loud enough for you, Clarke” Lexa said, giving her an inquiring look as if to ask if everything was okay. Clarke mustered a reassuring smile that noticeably deflated Lexa’s shoulders, though Raven and Octavia didn’t seem to realize it.

“I ought to attach a bell to you” Clarke sighed.

“I’m not a cat” Lexa replied, furrowing her brow.

“Well, you certainly act like one”

“Are you insinuating something, Clarke?”

“Oh, no. Not at all” Clarke could feel a smirk tug on her lips. 

“Ahem” Raven coughed, snapping Clarke and Lexa out of their isolated conversation. The blonde turned to see Raven dawning a Cheshire smile, and Octavia looking back and forth between them with confusion.

“Octavia, Anya is waiting patiently for you to relieve her post” Lexa began, starting with the confused brunette girl. “I’m sure she’s ready to go to bed” She continued, but shifted her gaze to Raven. Clarke furrowed her brow. Why was she looking so expectantly at Raven?

“Oh right” Octavia said. “I’ll catch you later, Clarke. I want to know more about you and Bel. And goodnight, Ray” She continued quickly, making her leave of the small flock of woman surrounding the fire as if it were lit under her ass.

“Yeah I should probably go to bed too” Raven declared, standing up from her lawn chair. She wiped some of the ash from the fire off of her pant legs.

They said their goodbyes and Clarke turned to Lexa. Her lips parted to say something, anything, but words froze in her throat upon seeing the absolutely ethereal woman glowing in the fire’s light. She inhaled sharply when Lexa stepped close enough to tuck one of the stray blonde strands away from Clarke’s eyes. Her blue gaze danced over Lexa’s features before bashfully landing on those breathtaking forest green eyes.

“You should sleep too, Clarke” Lexa said in a low register that warmed Clarke’s cheeks. She looked down at their feet with a small smile playing on her lips.

“Where might I do that?” She inquired.

“You can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor” Lexa replied, earning a disapproving look from Clarke.

“No, absolutely not. You need to rest your leg and get lots of sleep, which you won’t get if you sleep on the floor” she contradicted with a shake of her head. Lexa frowned and furrowed her brow in thought. “I appreciate your chivalry, though. It’s very sweet”

Lexa’s brow relaxed at Clarke’s words. She took another step closer, leaving little space between their fronts. The blonde’s breath hitched when the smell of lavender flooded her nose. 

“Why don’t I show you to my box car” Lexa suggested, earning a nod of agreement from Clarke. The moment Lexa stepped away, Clarke let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. She stood still for a moment trying to figure out what came over her before realizing Lexa was disappearing into the darkness. She had to jog to catch up to the limping woman.

Little did the women know, Raven and Anya had watched their interaction from the shadows. Astonishment contorted their faces.

They stopped in front of one of the box cars. Lexa tried to get the door open, but with her injury, it posed some difficulties. Clarke pushed past Lexa to open the door and earned a scolding from the proud woman.

It was hard to see inside the box car. The moonlight illuminated the car enough for Clarke to make out the shape of a blow up bed. She turned to help Lexa get inside so that she didn’t strain herself. Once the wounded woman was stable, Clarke gulped at their close proximity. She quickly let go of Lexa’s arms and wiped her suddenly clammy hands on her jeans. 

“I really don’t want you to sleep on the floor, Clarke” Lexa said. “Why don’t we uh” she paused to clear her throat. “We could share the bed”

“Okay” Clarke replied fast and shrill. She winced upon hearing herself. That was way too fast, and way too shrill for her liking. It was embarrassing, really.

Lexa reached out to grab Clarke’s hand, prompting butterflies in the blonde’s stomach. She backed up towards the bed until the back of her knees hit the mattress and sat down. Clarke couldn’t stop the weak feeling she felt when the brunette began to unravel her braids. Captivating couldn’t possibly explain the degree of fascination she felt for the woman whose hair fell down to her shoulders in gentle waves.

“Wow” Clarke mumbled before she could stop it. Lexa looked up and gave a confused hum. “I mean, uh, today was just wow. I don’t think I’ve gone through so much drama since high school” she quickly improvised, though sounding flustered. She collapsed on the space next to Lexa and began to unravel her own braids. Very carefully did she remove the flowers from her hair and placed them in a discreet location where she could find them in the morning.

“Have you and Raven cleared the air?” Lexa questioned. 

“A little” Clarke shrugged. “But I’m almost positive Raven’s still mad. It’s not like her to forgive and forget so easily” she explained, earning a nod of understanding. 

“One step at a time, Clarke” Lexa said, crawling over to the far side of the bed and getting under the blankets. “She will forgive you eventually”

“Yeah, if it’s possible to forgive something so unforgivable” Clarke mumbled, crawling under the blankets as well. She laid flat on her back with the blankets pulled to her chin. She inhaled sharply when Lexa’s hand brushed against hers. 

“Don’t think so little of Raven. No mistake is truly unforgivable. She’s a very reasonable woman, and it’s clear that you wish to atone” Lexa stated, sounding wise beyond her years. Clarke moved to intertwine their pinkies. 

“I don’t get it, Lex. How are you so put together?” Clarke asked more to the dark ceiling than the woman next to her. Lexa hummed comfortably into a pillow.

“Magic” she replied, though muffled by the pillow. Clarke felt a quiet chuckle vibrate in the back of her throat. Sleepy Lexa was adorable. So adorable that Clarke fell asleep with a smile and a pink tint on her cheeks.

-

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open to see a sliver of sunlight pouring into the boxcar, and a shutter flowed through her when soft fingertips grazed her bare stomach. Hyper aware of her position, with a knee wedged between her thigh, nose pressed against her neck, and warm breath tickling her heated skin, Clarke struggled to gulp down the lump growing at the back of her throat. Never did she peg Lexa for a cuddler.

A low hum of complete bliss vibrated against Clarke’s neck, making a shiver crawl up and down her spine. Her body grew rigid when the hands on her stomach began to travel upwards. To keep it from traveling into very,  _ very _ , uncharted territory Clarke quickly grabbed Lexa’s hand. Flutters toiled in her stomach as she lifted the offending hand. She had no clue where to put it. Before she could make a decision, though, the hand pulled away from Clarke’s grasp. The offending knee seemed to follow as well, though lethargically. 

“Shit” Lexa mumbled, pulling away from Clarke further. Her voice was laced with sleep and rasped hard on the  _ i _ . Meanwhile, Clarke’s heart decided to professionally dance the salsa on her ribs. “I’m sorry” and there her voice went again, rasping on the  _ i _ and  _ o _ . If Lexa could just stop speaking, then maybe, just maybe, Clarke could get her heart to stop doing that stupid dance. 

“It’s fine, Lex” Clarke croaked, unmoving. She couldn’t look at Lexa. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. Was she supposed to be mad? Surely she didn’t like being felt up in her sleep.

Shit, she kinda did. Was that weird? Probably. Let’s not think too hard about that.

“Do you usually feel up girls in your sleep?” Clarke asked, suddenly feeling playful. Honestly, she should have sealed her lips shut, because she could feel Lexa tense up next to her. Lexa really need to grow a funny bone.

“Your guess is as good as mine” Lexa admitted, prompting Clarke to turn around.

“You’ve never shared a bed with a woman?” Clarke questioned, though her answer had literally been answered milliseconds ago. She just couldn’t believe Lexa hadn’t shared a bed with someone. If anything, she expected detailed answers.

Clarke had shared a bed with many people, from platonically to not so platonically. Sleeping next to someone brought some sort of comfort, like she was one half of a pair of socks, and the person next to her was the other. It was… pleasing, in a sense. Warm, comfortable, and pleasing, and for Lexa to have never experienced such a feat? Well, it was damn near criminal. 

“No, Clarke. I have never shared a bed with a woman” Lexa responded, her voice crass, yet held a playful undertone. 

“Not even a girlfriend or?” Clarke continued to question. She really didn’t believe Lexa.

“Not even a girlfriend” Lexa reiterated. She was getting a little irritated, having to repeat the same answer and all. Based off of Einstein's definition of insanity - doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results - Lexa was starting to think Clarke was insane. 

“I don’t believe you for a second, Alexandra Reginleif Woods” Clarke denied.

“I should have never told you my full name” Lexa mumbled under her breath, pulling the blankets up her shoulder and turning away from Clarke. The blonde threw her head back and cackled to the ceiling. Lexa was adorable when she was still sleepy.

“Have you at least touched a girl?” Clarke questioned, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Can we talk about something else? Or better yet, not talk at all” Lexa grumbled into her pillow. She earned another cackled from Clarke.

“It’s totally fine if you’re a virgin, Lex. You’re still young” Clarke declared, poking the bear. Lexa whipped around with a furrowed brow and tried to look down her nose at Clarke. A toothy grin pulled on Clarke’s lips, having successfully drawn out the response she was looking for.

“There are many things I am, Clarke, and a virgin isn’t one” Lexa replied whilst sounding slightly offended at Clarke’s insinuation. Her frustration was absolutely adorable, with how cutely pink her ears and cheeks were and all. 

“Why do I feel like you rehearsed that? I’m not really convinced” Clarke said, poking the bear further. Somehow, Lexa’s eyebrows furrowed further. Her green eyes flickered back and forth between Clarke’s in thought. Something mischievous flickered in those eyes, making Clarke suddenly nervous.

Instead of responding, Lexa sat up. She began to close the space between them, making Clarke panic and try to add space by pressing herself back down into the mattress. Lexa paused, hovering above Clarke with just enough space to feel her breath. Her long brunette hair cascaded down her shoulder and tickled Clarke’s neck which bobbed with a gulp at their close proximity. Lexa figured out Clarke’s ruse. 

“I know what you’re doing” Lexa said, her voice low and challenging.

“And, uh, what exactly am I doing?” Clarke stammered. Her heart was back to doing the salsa. Her cheeks were practically on fire, and suddenly she was a bit sweaty. Was it always this hot?

Lexa opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, there was a bang on the boxcar door. Clarke watched the woman clench her jaw and squeeze her eyes shut in annoyance.

“What?” Lexa asked, moving away from Clarke. The blonde let out the breath she had no clue she was holding. 

“Time to wake up” It was Octavia. “Unless you want to miss Monty’s famous algae for breakfast. Wouldn’t blame you if you did, though” Lexa sighed.

“We’ll be out in a few. Don’t let Jasper eat it all” Lexa replied, her words sounding a bit clipped. 

“You got it, Commander” Octavia replied. Clarke could practically hear the eye roll in her voice. Judging by the fading footsteps, Octavia was leaving. Clarke took those few seconds to gather herself back into a solid from the gay sweaty puddle she’d melted into.

“So, Commander. Do they all call you that?”

“Shut up, Clarke”

-

Monty’s algae was no better than yesterday’s dinner. In fact, Clarke figured it was a little worse. It was quite the feat not to throw up with every spoonful. Clarke wasn’t the only one who shared the difficulty. Everyone else shared sour looks, and occasionally there was a pity smile towards Monty with a fake hum of enjoyment.

Once breakfast was over, they all split off into different directions. Monty and Jasper were speaking animatedly to one another while walking over to their shared boxcar. Aden, Madi, and Lincoln walked over to the field with a soccer ball. Raven and Anya went up to the watch post on top of the boxcars. And Lexa retreated to find a book in her boxcar, leaving Clarke and Octavia by the fading fire.

Octavia stayed true to her word when she promised to chat Clarke up about Bellamy. Clarke spoke fondly of him, though it was hard to talk about him at all. Even the good memories, which brought heartfelt laughter to Octavia, hurt to verbalize. It was the first time she ever really talked about Bellamy since he… moved on. Thinking the word dead made it all too real.

Being considerate, Octavia avoided asking the tougher questions, and moved on to telling embarrassing childhood stories. From how he “asserted his dominance” by showing off silly bands that piled almost all the way up to his elbows, to the time he took out an old Nokia phone and pretend he was actually calling the president to assassinate some asshole named Jimmy in first grade, Clarke was clutching her side from all the laughter. She laughed so hard that tears clouded her vision, though they weren’t those kinds of tears.

This man, who one day thought it was cool to wear socks over his jeans, was no longer alive. It wasn’t fair. Not one second. And oh how Clarke loathed it.

“He really meant something to you, didn’t he?” Octavia asked carefully, watching the silent tears crawl down Clarke’s cheeks.

“He was my rock. As insufferable as he was when we first met, he helped me through a rough time. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t miss him” Clarke elaborated, wiping away the tears. Octavia looked down at her hands and nodded with a smile ghosting his lips.

“You know, he used to listen to  Avril Lavigne and color his nails black with sharpies” Octavia said, changing the subject. Clarke bit her lip to try not to burst out laughing, but failed significantly.

“God, I used to do that too. I thought I was so edgy” Clarke admitted between laughs. Octavia threw her head back and started laughing with the same gusto as Clarke. 

It was ironic, really, how Clarke had initially bonded with Bellamy over Octavia. Now, here she is, bonding with Octavia over that very man. Funny how things work out. It was uncanny.

After a few more stories, like the time Octavia walked in on Bellamy “reading” his father’s nude magazine and blackmailed him for a month to do her math homework. She said it was payback for the time he convinced her the wasabi on his plate at a Chinese restaurant was pistachio ice cream and she took a huge bite. Siblings were always something Clarke wondered about having, but now that she was hearing this, she was glad to be an only child.

They spoke long enough until the fire reduced from it’s simmering state to cold coals. Unanimously they agreed to go watch Lincoln kick around a ball with Madi and Aden. They sat side by side a certain distance away to watch Lincoln play keep away from the kids. Their laughter was music to Clarke’s ears. One thing she missed most about the military bases was the children's innocent bliss.

The ball ended up being kicked towards Octavia, who quickly grabbed it before Clarke could. Lincoln jobbed over to them, face flushed and sweaty from running circles around the kids. A wide smile spread across his face, and Octavia mirrored it.

“Hey, hot stuff” Octavia said, hugging the ball.

“Hey, beautiful” Lincoln responded. He reached to grab the ball, but Octavia held it away from him. He gave her a disapproving look before leaning down and capturing a heated kiss. Clarke’s eyebrows raised so high that they probably weren’t on her face anymore. 

Lincoln seemed to get what he wanted; for Octavia to melt enough to let go of the ball. Once he had it, he gave Octavia a cheeky smile before giving Clarke a nod of acknowledgement. She barely managed to reciprocate before turning to Octavia with a gaping mouth.

“God, what a man” Octavia sighed, still blissed out from the kiss. She turned to Clarke with stars in her eyes.

“I never would have pictured you two together” Clarke commented, though did her best not to sound offensive.

“Don’t let his bulging muscles blind you, Clarke. He is the biggest teddy bear in the world” Octavia explained. Clarke nodded, turning to watch Madi and Aden play monkey in the middle. Apparently Lincoln wasn’t as skillful as before. She could kinda see it now, what Octavia was saying. He was pretty good with the kids.

Clarke asked how they met, and Octavia explained how she was staying at the military base he was stationed at with Lexa, and not so surprisingly, Anya. They started dating before it fell. Ever since, they were practically glued to the hip. Clarke thought it was adorable how Octavia stared wistfully at him while she spoke. 

She couldn’t honestly remember looking at someone like that. Yeah, there was Finn, but their romance had been short lived, and Clarke looked more hungrily at him than lovingly. Their relationship hadn’t had enough time to flourish. Guilt stirred in the back of Clarke’s mind at the thought of it. His memory felt sullied by Clarke’s absence of complete unconditional love, but it simply wasn’t there. Perhaps they wouldn’t have actually lasted. 

-

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Octavia and Clarke probably watched Lincoln, Madi, and Aden kick around the soccer ball for about an hour before calling it quits and walking back to the boxcars. Lincoln switched posts with Anya, and Octavia went to bed since she was always on night watch with Jasper. Clarke found Lexa sitting in one of the lawn chairs with her bad foot elevated by another chair and her nose shoved into a book.

While Clarke unwrapped Lexa’s leg to check on the wound, Anya and Raven relit the campfire. The warmth was welcomed since it just kept getting colder and colder out. 

Clarke was checking Lexa’s leg for any signs of infection, she couldn’t help but watch Raven practically collapsed into Anya’s lap in her peripheral. She must have squeezed Lexa’s leg because a grunt came from the stoic woman. Clarke muttered profanities before apologizing.

“You should let this breathe for a while. You’re more prone to infection if you keep it covered” Clarke instructed, earning a nod from Lexa. She didn’t even look up from her book. Clarke squeezed the woman’s leg again, earning a yelp and a glare. “I would like a verbal reply, please”

“Yes, Clarke. I will let it air out” Lexa snapped.

“Great, now lift your leg so I can sit” Clarke demanded. Lexa narrowed her eyes reluctantly. The blonde rolled her eyes when Lexa didn’t oblige. She went ahead to lift the stubborn woman’s leg to sit. Lexa let out another pained grunt while Clarke adjusted her leg on her lap.

“You’re insufferable” Lexa grumbled, turning her attention back to her book. Clarke couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling. Lexa was being a real grump, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.

“What are you reading?” Clarke asked, attempting to make light conversation. She could see the cover just fine, but she wanted to hear about it from Lexa. When the woman didn’t say anything, Clarke could feel herself get less patient. Not willing to be ignored, Clarke snatched the book right out of Lexa’s hands.

“Hey!” Lexa protested. She tried to reach for it, but couldn’t because her leg was currently on Clarke’s lap, and she just didn’t bend that way. 

“ _ Milk and Honey _ by Rupi Kaur” Clarke read aloud, though she was sure she butchered the author’s name. She could feel Lexa continuing to struggle. She must be really passionate about this book if she wanted it back so bad. Clarke turned to the page Lexa left off, and her eyes widened with surprise.

“I never pegged you for a poetry lover” Clarke commented, reading the lines on the page. Lexa’s movements stilled like a deer caught in headlights. The blonde placed her free hand on the ex marine’s leg, careful not to touch the bad part, and caressed the skin beneath her thumb.

“ _ Your name is the strongest positive and negative connotation in any language. It lights me up or leaves me aching for days _ ” Clarke read, though more to herself than to mock Lexa. No, she didn’t want to mock Lexa at all. In fact, it was a bit endearing. Big bad Lexa had a soft spot for poetry, and that was… romantic?

Clarke looked over to Lexa, prepared to say something, but her words were forgotten instantly. Those bright, intelligent green eyes were wide with wonder. A warm red glow spread across her cheeks where those adorable little freckles sat, and her lips parted with unspoken words. Clarke gave her a warm smile and returned her book.

“Thank you” Lexa mumbled under her breath. Clarke rested her head back, sinking more into the chair with a relaxed sigh. Now that Lexa wasn’t so grumpy anymore, she could actually relax.

Of course, unnoticed by both Clarke and Lexa, Anya and Raven were shooting each other looks as if to ask what just happened. 

“ _ Should we say something? _ ” Raven questioned with her eyes. Anya shook her head.

“ _ No, I’ve never seen Lexa like this _ ” Anya responded, furrowing her brow.

“ _ I can’t even make fun of Lexa for reading poetry? _ ” Raven practically begged with her eyebrows.

“ _ Don’t ruin the good mood, and just be happy Lexa isn’t making you go do something _ ” Anya sighed.

To the untrained eye, this entire conversation would just be a lot of eyebrow wiggling and head tilting. Maybe even a few disgruntled huffs.

-

Clarke sighed happily as she flopped onto Lexa’s blow up bed. She quickly crawled under the blankets and snuggled her nose into one of the pillows with another happy sigh. The blonde was in a whole nother world of comfort. Lexa had given her pajamas, a grey shirt and black sweatpants, so that she didn’t have to spend another night in jeans. The clothes smelled very much like Lexa, and it was great.

“Made yourself at home, I see” Lexa said, standing off in a dark corner to change. The blonde hummed in response. She was tired, but it was a good tired. It was a much better tired than an exhausted day of walking every second kind of tired. Clarke very much welcomed the change.

“Hey, so, quick question” Clarke began. “When am I gonna meet Dante, or Nia? I don’t really see them around much” she asked.

“Tomorrow” Lexa responded, pulling off her shirt. Clarke gave her privacy by staring up at the ceiling. “We hold meetings every week to discuss plans” she elaborated while being a bit muffled by the shirt she pulled on. Clarke turned back, ready to say something, but the words died on her lips when she observed how  _ tight _ Lexa’s shirt was. It must have been cold, because Clarke could clearly see the other woman’s nip-

_ Clarke Joanne Griffin _ , she silently scolded to herself.  _ We do not look at other woman’s nipples like a salivating teenage boy. _

“Okay, great” Clarke replied, sounding hopelessly flustered. “Are you coming to bed?” She asked, keeping her eyes above Lexa’s neck. 

“I think I’ll just sleep on the floor tonight” Lexa insisted, but Clarke shook her head in disapproval.

“Are you still bothered by this morning?” asked Clarke with a curious cock of her head.

“Yes, Clarke. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable” Lexa replied whilst looking down at her feet. The blonde aggressively shook her head.

“ Alexandra Reginleif Woods, you will get into this comfortable ass bed, have the most amazing sleep, and you’re gonna like it” Clarke demanded, earning a long protesting groan.

“I really never should have told you my full name” Lexa grumbled under her breath as she crawled into bed next to Clarke. A hum of approval sounded from the blonde as she snuggled her nose into the pillow again. Oh what an amazing, fluffy pillow that smelled wonderfully like Lexa.

“Goodnight, commander” Clarke mumbled into the pillow.

“Goodnight, princess” Lexa replied. Clearly she’s been talking to Raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this filled your gay heart a little bit.  
> Okay I may have tried to be funny in this chapter, idk. I guess I kinda grew tired of angst? I didn't want this to turn into a bunch of whiney emotions. I personally use humor as a defense mechanism so it's much easier, and more fun for me to write. I tend to repress everything else sooo if you don't like it, there's like... hundreds of other Clexa fics, right? Great ANYWAYS  
> Were you shocked to see Octavia? Did you find Raven and Anya's "conversation" amusing (Because there may or may not be more) What do you expect will happen when Clarke meets Dante and Nia?  
> Please, do me a solid, and drop a comment to let me know your thoughts. I love a good convo about the 100. Maybe even leave a kudos. Honestly do whatever the hell you want, I don't control your life.  
> Until we meet again, my dudes.


	8. Experimentation of the Lamebrains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Please, Don't Die: Raven smacked Clarke and there was some yelling. Clarke met Anya, Lincoln, Monty, Jasper, Madi, Aden, and even more shockingly than seeing Raven, Octavia. Clexa talked about sex. Stories about Bellamy were swapped between Octavia and Clarke. Lexa apparently reads poetry. More silent Ranya exchanges. 
> 
>  
> 
> And Now: Clarke goes to the weekly meeting with Raven, Anya, and Lexa. There are even more characters to be introduced, and the plot begins to thicken a bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 6,783
> 
> Chapter Rating: Mature. The first few paragraphs are a bit disturbing, but crucial to the plot. I just hope the fbi agent scrolling through my history doesn't mind the research I did

The human body begins to decompose the moment the heart stops pumping blood. Oxygen is cut off of from cells and tissue, and as a result, they start to die off. Decomposition differs with each subject. Environment especially plays a big factor as to how fast a body may putrefy.

Anything residing within the bowels dispels not long after the heart stops. Within the first 24 to 72 hours after death, internal organs begin to decompose. About three to five days in, the body begins to bloat with gases. One of the gases in this stage, sulfur, binds to hemoglobin molecules located in the blood and changes the skin color to an array of dark oranges and mustard yellows. 

After a few days of collecting and storing gases, the body begins a purge by expelling a dark fertile liquid that ends up killing any surrounding plants only for them to grow back a year later. This is when environment becomes key. In hot, humid locations, the rate of decomposition is more rapid, but bacteria and insects will eventually die off and the body will mummify in its final stage of advance decay. In colder regions, or even shaded areas, the body will continue to provide a suitable home for bacteria and insects to flourish, leaving behind only bone and parts of skin. 

This, of course, only happened if the vultures, or other animals, weren’t hungry. In that case, it wouldn’t take more than a few hours to become a pile of bones.

Clarke had spent the past hour staring up at the dark ceiling racking her brain over how long geeks could possibly survive in these circumstances. Surely they wouldn’t last long. If there was no blood pumping oxygen throughout the body, then a geek couldn’t possibly survive longer than 72 hours. No virus could give life to a rotting brain no matter how terrifying it’s nature.

But right now? Clarke couldn’t get the faces of the dead out of her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, flashes of their sorry state burned on to the back of her eyelids. The hunter. The priest - which, now that she really thought about it, couldn’t have been dead longer than a month. They wouldn’t leave her alone. They wouldn’t let her fall back to sleep to dream yet another dream where she saw herself become a monster. 

So, instead of staring blankly at the ceiling with such dark thoughts, Clarke opted to get out of bed. She was careful not to rouse Lexa who, somehow, slept blissfully without a care in the world. It was an envious state. Clarke would give anything to sleep a night where ghosts didn’t come to consume her dreams.

It was only mildly difficult to navigate Lexa’s boxcar blindly. Aside from a giant stack of books in one corner, a small bedside table, and piles of neatly folded clothes, there wasn’t much. Clarke meandered over to where Lexa’s backpack leaned up against the wall by the stack of books, stuck her hand in the front most pocket, and procured the pack of cigarettes and a lighter she knew was there. If she couldn’t drink her problems away, she might as well seek some sort of distraction.

On the floor in a crumpled up mass beside the bed was a discarded blanket that Clarke grabbed and threw around her shoulders. She paused, a coffin nail stuck loosely to the moisture of her top lip, and took a moment to appreciate how the faintest light of day barely illuminated Lexa’s face. She memorized those features hard, hoping that maybe Lexa’s face would burn on the back of her eyelids instead of her nightmares. 

Quietly, Clarke left Lexa to sleep alone and stepped into the wee hour. Most of the stars in the sky have vanished, and the once vast blackness turned into a navy blue with a hint of gold blanketing the clouds hanging above the horizon. The cool breeze blew out the lighters flame a few times before Clarke covered the tip of her cigarette. Somehow she managed to wake before the birds, and it was quiet save for the warm hiss of burning tobacco. 

The sentiment of fresh air brought an odd peace. This was much better than being cooped up in a boxcar. From where she stood, the world looked to go on for miles. The browning field, which stretched past the house and barn across the road, ventured so far that it met the yellowing sky. Everything was so open that anything out of the ordinary could be spotted instantly, and Clarke thought that to be very convenient. No surprise cooks showing up to their door and feasting on them for breakfast.

The only real concern was the line of trees located on the other side of the boxcars. It wasn’t too thick, but it stretched on for miles and miles. Certain precautions had been made that Clarke noticed. Precautions she was sure Raven came up with. Tied around the closest tree trunks were long ropes with cans dangling in tight clusters. A warning chime for the lookout. It was very strategic, and very Raven.

Clarke let out a long, disappointed sigh - complete with smoke - when she heard faint snores from above. She took a few steps away from the boxcars to see Jasper curled up in the fetal position with his gun held close to his body as if it were a suitable thing to cuddle with. She scanned the road for a proper sized pebble. It took only one to hit him in the head.

Jasper stirred lethargically, glancing around with a confused look. When he saw Clarke, he shot up from his seat. “Oh shit.” Clarke raised an eyebrow and took a drag.

“You’re lucky” She said, smoke scratching her throat as she spoke. “Nobody else is awake” she continued.

“Are you going to tell Lexa?” Jasper asked panic-stricken. She couldn’t see it, but she was almost positive the look on Jasper’s face was horrified. As long as he knew what he did wrong, Clarke wasn’t that mad. Sure, his slip up could have caused someone’s death, but nobody was screaming and no geeks lurked about. Best not to make a skeptical now and save the lecture for later.

“You’re fine. Just don’t do it again, alright? If it does, I won’t hesitate. Promise me” Clarke rasped with a dry throat.

“Cross my heart, hope to die” Jasper responded, visibly drawing an x across his torso. He held his hands up concedingly. Clarke took in a slow breath, checking to make sure she held on to whatever ounce of calm she had, and exhaled.

“Good” She said, turning on her heels and stocking over to the fire pit. She ignored the weary thank you shouted towards her and curled up in a lawn chair. She pulled up her legs to her chest and took a moment to fix the blanket more securely around her, careful not to drop her fading cigarette.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. The birds began to chirp, her cigarette ended up in the fire pit - poorly contained in an oval by large rocks - once its life came to an end, and the sky began to turn pink. She sniffled a few times, courtesy of the cold biting her nose, and focused solely on the life around her. 

“Clarke” a groggy voice rasped out. The blonde turned to see Lexa wobbling towards her. A small smile crawled up to her lips when she saw the brunette trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” Clarke asked, keeping her voice on the quiet, tender side as if she might spook her away.

Lexa came to a stand still adjacent to where Clarke sat. “I woke up and you weren’t there. I got worried” she admitted through her haze. Her arms were clutched close to her body, flush with goose-bumps, and her shoulders were ridged from the cold.

“Are you cold?” Clarke asked, though she knew the answer. Lexa nodded lazily, her drooping eyes peering down at the blonde like she was about to fall asleep where she stood. “C’mere” she beckoned as she put her feet back down and unfurled the blanket.

Lexa moved lethargically over towards her, not having the capacity to form a logical thought, and plopped down in the space Clarke made for her on the chair. She swung her legs over the arm rest as the blonde wrestled with the blanket to cover them. Lexa curled her arms into her body and nuzzled her cold nose into the crook of Clarke’s neck.

Clarke nearly laughed at the satisfied hum tickling her neck. Sleepy Lexa was by far Clarke’s favorite Lexa. It was the one time the stoic woman acted without deliberating too hard.

This wasn’t weird. No. It was oddly… perfect. 

Clarke and Raven had sat in similar positions like this before. Both women were comfortable enough, having been something like sisters for years. More often than not, though, they prompted this close proximity when the other was upset about something. When Clarke had dropped out of med school, Raven coaxed the sobbing blonde into her lap and held her the way she wished her mother held her.

But with Lexa it was different. Like Lexa fit seamlessly in Clarke’s arms like a shivering, drowsy puzzle piece. She was uncomfortable, yet so comfortable with Lexa’s warmth that she didn’t care to think too much about it. Something that felt so good, so right, just had to be criminal, but Clarke was never one to follow the rules closely.

She didn’t know how it happened. In the midst of all the warmth, the hot breath evening out against her skin, and sheer rightfulness in position, Clarke had drifted off. A feat she hadn’t expected. This time her dreams no longer contained those haunting memories. Instead, they were of a particular image that had burned into the black of her eyelids in their stead. 

-

A thin layer of sweat pooled on the small of her back where the grey shirt plastered to her skin. The warm smell of smoking wood flooded her lungs as a fire crackled and snapped only a pace away. The heavy weight on top of her remained unmoving with the acception of hot breath tickling her ear rhythmically.

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open. Groggy, confused. For a moment she had forgotten how she got here, how she ended up with a woman sleeping soundlessly on her lap. Memories of earlier came flooding back as soon as she laid eyes on Lexa, who looked as if she were having the most pleasant dream filled with all the riches she ever coveted. A sheen of sweat covered her face from their combined body heat trapped under the thick blanket and the proper sized fire. Her baby hairs stuck to her face like tiny inconsistent scribbles, and every now and then, her faintly freckled nose scrunched.

Clarke mindlessly curled a stray strand of hair behind the brunette’s ear. Lexa nuzzled her nose further against the blonde’s neck, letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Monty asked, appearing by the fire with pots in his hand. Clarke’s heart lurched in surprise. She had been so spellbound by Lexa’s essence that she hadn’t noticed Monty approach.

Clarke shook her head and turned back to Lexa. “No” she mumbled under her breath. Now was probably the best time to wake Lexa up. She wished that this moment would never end, that neither of them would ever have to face the harsh reality anymore. But it had to end. It had to end, because reality couldn’t be ignored. Time stopped for nobody, and especially not for them.

Clarke placed her palm on Lexa’s cheek, caressing her thumb along the tender part of her face. “Lexa” She whispered. The woman under her hand only nuzzled further into her neck. “It’s time to get up, Lex” Clarke tried again, struggling not to laugh. 

Lexa let out a soft hum. “Clarke” she mumbled, her voice rasping. “I’m so hot” she sounded almost detached. Clarke turned to face Lexa once she summoned the strength to lift her head.

“Well aren’t you a bit conceited this morning” Clarke commented jokingly. Lexa closed her eyes and a lazy smile splayed her lips.

“That’s not what I meant” Lexa replied, shifting her body on Clarke’s lap. There wasn’t a worry in the world etched on her face. Clarke would give anything to read minds in this moment. She wanted to know what was going through Lexa’s mind.

A loud crash startled them. They turned to see Monty bending over to grab the pots he dropped, a few curses under his breath. Clarke felt Lexa’s body grow ridged, and the lazy smile on her face morphed into a frown. Whatever daze she had been in was replaced with something unreadable.

Lexa said nothing as she stood up from Clarke’s lap. Her stoic expression flickered with pain when she put too much weight on her bad leg. “Monty” She regarded, taking in a sharp breath when her balance wavered. He straightened out and offered a sheepish smile.

“I thought I’d get started on breakfast early” Monty said to Lexa. She nodded and turned back to Clarke. Her lips parted to say something, but quickly resealed. Her jaw clenched down on whatever words she wanted to say, gave Clarke a curt nod, and began limping towards her boxcar, leaving Clarke with a thoroughly confused look.

She turned to watch Lexa slowly make her way towards the boxcar before turning to look at the fire’s flames licking upwards. Her brow furrowed with thought, trying to understand what Lexa’s problem was.

-

Clarke hated Jasper.

Okay, maybe hate was too strong of a word. Clarke didn’t actually hate Jasper. He seemed like an okay guy, aside from the fact he fell asleep during watch. Clarke enjoyed his humor occasionally, but right now she was close to throwing her spoon at him.

“Croissant sandwich. Hot greasy sausage patty” He mumbled between mouthfuls of Monty’s algae. “Fluffy yellow eggs with melted cheese and ketchup” his descriptions were quiet, but everyone could hear him. He took another scoop of algae, stared at it, and moaned out “hash browns” before shoving it into his mouth.

Clarke missed real food. Monty was brilliant for figuring out a way to provide a source of sustenance, but Jasper was making it really hard to appreciate that. She stared miserably down at the bowl of warm algae, a small part of her hoping that the green goo would transform into Jasper’s description. She scooped up a goopy clump, closed her eyes, and pretended that it was just tomato soup. It slid down her throat, but not after every single taste bud cried in protest. Forcing down the bile that rose in the back of her throat, Clarke opened her eyes and stared back down at her food again.

Fluffy pancakes right off the pan, topped with a square of butter and drowned in maple syrup. Fresh picked strawberries and blueberries shoved into a folded crepe with whipped cream on top. A glass of milk, or orange juice or -  _ oh, god _ \- coffee.

Clarke missed coffee the most. She would wake up and brew a nice, steaming hot cup of joe to kick off her day. It gave her the energy to make it to her morning classes without falling asleep on the way there.

“Clarke, are you okay?” Octavia asked after placing her empty bowl on the ground. Clarke looked up with a confused look before realizing that she had been staring way too hard at her food. She inhaled sharply and sank into her chair. 

“Yeah, I just really miss coffee” She said upon exhaling. Her statement earned a few nods around the circle.

“I miss tacos” Octavia admitted.

“I could go for a burger right now” Raven chimed, gesturing for Monty to add another scoop of algae to her bowl.

Lincoln threw back his head and groaned out “steak.” Of course the intimidating muscular man missed stake.

Clarke must have started something, because everyone sitting around the fire began listing off all the foods they missed. They had a wistful look on their face as they spoke, but Lexa remained stoic. She didn’t partake in sharing the foods she missed, but Clarke knew she’d say peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She smiled at that thought. It felt like a secret only she knew.

At some point, Raven mentioned the lasagna Jake used to cook. Clarke couldn’t help but smile at all the memories it brought. Since Raven’s parents passed away from a car accident her junior year of high school, and all other relatives were deceased, there was nowhere for her to go during holiday breaks. She invited Raven over for Christmas, not out of pity, but because she genuinely felt like Raven would be the perfect addition to their holiday cheer. Jake made them lasagna that year, and Raven loved it so much that she practically begged for the recipe. Jake had let out a hearty laugh, told her that he couldn’t share his secret formula, and packed up the leftovers for her to take back to college. Ever since then, Jake made lasagna whenever Raven came to visit.

Clarke had so much she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. All she could bring herself to do was agree with Raven. This wasn’t the time or the place to bring up those kinds of memories. Things with Raven hadn’t changed at all since the day before yesterday, and before all the good times could be brought up, much mending would have to be done. Clarke had a long road ahead of her, and the casual mention of Jake was just the starting point.

The conversation of food died down as everyone finished eating their algae. Monty went around to everybody to pick up their plates. Quiet thank yous were the only words uttered, and it felt odd. With how many people were around, it felt strange to just sit there. Clarke must not have been the only one sensing the odd energy, because both Raven and Anya stood up to leave. Before they could, Lexa stood from her seat with a business facade.

“Before you leave, I would like to go over today’s agenda” Lexa said, giving Anya and Raven a look. They sat back down in their seats with an added eye roll from Raven. “As I’m sure you are aware, the weekly meeting with Dante and Nia is today. I would like Anya, Raven, and Clarke to accompany me” She turned to Clarke as she spoke. The blonde felt herself nod.

“Lincoln, you’re to stand watch in Anya’s stead. Octavia, I would like for you to take Jasper and Aden to collect more wood. The days are only getting colder” Everyone nodded along to Lexa’s words as they respectively came up. “And Monty, I would like for you to begin teaching Madi how to grow algae. Should anything happen to you, we would be without the knowledge needed to continue growing algae” she said, her powerful green eyes landed on the two in question. Monty seemed to smile weakly, and Madi furrowed her brow with a displeased look.

“You’re dismissed” Lexa said, finishing with her chin held high. She turned, her walking stick in hand, and limped over towards her box car. Everyone else seemed to get up as well, Octavia disappearing into the woods with Aden and Jasper, Anya and Raven climbed up to the guard station, and Lincoln and Monty cleaned up the rest of the bowls  before disappearing. Clarke and Madi were the last ones sitting by the fire.

Madi let out a long sigh and grabbed a random twig laying besides the firepit. The look in her eyes was distant as she poked at the hot coals. A sigh came from her lips, and her shoulders drooped.

“You okay, Madi?” Clarke asked curiously. Madi turned over her shoulder to meet Clarke’s eye.

“I’m fine” She mumbled before turning back to the coals she was poking. The stick she had been holding started on fire. She tossed it into the fading flames and leaned back on her hands. Clarke stood up from her chair and sat on the ground beside Madi.

“You know, growing algae might not be as bad as it tastes” Clarke said, staring at the burning stick. Madi’s quiet scoff prompted Clarke to look at her.

Madi drew her knees into her chest and placed her chin on her shoulder to look at Clarke, the small smile on her lips fading. “It seems so boring.”

Clarke chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before smiling. “You know, some of my favorite teachers taught my least favorite subjects. They were so passionate about what they were teaching that it rubbed off on everyone, and Monty seems like that kind of guy” she said with a reassuring smile. Madi took a moment to consider Clarke’s words, and once she met Clarke’s eyes, there was a tiny spark that wasn’t there before.

“You really think so?” Madi asked, her brow raising questioningly.

“Yep, and if you want, I can talk to Lexa and maybe Monty can teach the both of us. We can pass notes during class and I can copy your homework” Clarke joked, nudging Madi with her elbow. Madi cracked a smile and looked at the tops of her knees.

“If anybody’s copying homework, it’ll be me” Madi declared. Clarke laughed and sat back on her hands.

“Not if math is involved” Clarke replied in a matter-o-fact tone. “It’s not that I’m bad at it, I just don’t like to think that hard about numbers” She clarified, and Madi nodded along.

They spoke a while longer, keeping the conversation light hearted with a few jokes tossed in for good measure. By the time Monty resurfaced, Octavia, Aden, and Jasper returned with their first load of chopped wood. Madi said goodbye to Clarke and left with Monty to start her first lesson.

For about an hour, Clarke went off and did her own thing. She grabbed her sketchbook from her backpack, and tired to make conversation with Lexa when she entered the boxcar, but Lexa seemed to ignore Clarke. Deciding not to let it get to her, Clarke wandered out of the boxcar and climbed up to the roof for the first time. The boxcar gave Clarke a better view of the fields on one side, and the trees on the other didn’t tower over as much. 

Movement from the house drew her gaze, and for the first time, Clarke saw someone emerge. Since they were a distance away, Clarke couldn’t make out their face. She decided then to being sketching the house.

It was a nice house, but it wasn’t a recent build. The barn and silos looked more recently built compared to the house. It resembled the home Lexa and Clarke had found with the photos of an old couple and smelled like her grandparents’ house. 

It was a two story build with a porch in the front. The cement foundation holding it up suggested a possible basement, or even a cellar. Each floor held the same amount of windows, and it’s symmetry was easy to recreate on paper, it but brought a certain drabness to the page.

Clarke looked up at the house again to begin shading, but paused when she noticed Raven approaching from her perrefreal. She gave Raven a smile as she sat down next to Clarke. Her legs dangled off the side of the boxcar, occasionally kicking it with her heels, and leaned over to see what Clarke was drawing.

“That’s cool” Raven said, glancing back and forth from the actual house and the drawing. Clarke shrugged modestly.

“It’s better than what I’ve been drawing the past month” Clarke replied, starting to shade the porch. When Raven didn’t say anything, she looked up to see Raven focusing hard on her. “What?” she asked curiously.

“What were you doing all that time by yourself?” Raven asked.

“After Bel passed, I lost myself, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who I was anymore. All I did was exist” Clarke replied, looking down at her hands. It was too hard to look at Raven. The shame she felt was too strong.

“But you’re here now, Princess” Raven said, giving Clarke a nudge with her elbow.

Clarke closed her art journal and placed it to the side and offered Raven a weak smile. “I want to make things right with you, Ray.”

“Well,” Raven began, avoiding Clarke’s eyes. “The commander wants to go over a few things before the big meeting. We should go now before the fork up her ass lodges itself deeper” she said, nodding towards where Lexa stood by the fire pit with Anya.

“Right” Clarke mumbled. Raven stood up and headed over to the ladder down. Clarke lingered in her spot for a moment to watch the conversation between Lexa and Anya until Raven shouted something to divert their attention. Lexa looked up at Clarke and their eyes met. She offered a warm smile to the marine, who, in turn, furrowed her brow and looked to the ground.

Clarke decided to ignore the strange reaction and stood up with her art journal in hand. She crawled down the ladder and approached them whilst wiping the rust off of her hands. Raven and Anya were talking about something concerning Raven’s Rod of Wonders 2.0, and Lexa only side glanced at Clarke when she came to a stand still.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, I wanted to recap the last meeting since I wasn’t here” Lexa said, looking to Anya for answers. The conversation between Anya and Raven ceased and shifted.

Clarke kept up with Anya’s explanation as well as she could. It sounded like the previous meeting hadn’t gone in a good direction. Due to Lexa’s alleged death, tensions were high between the three groups. Nia, who Clarke recognized from Lexa’s briefing of the three groups, was unwilling to use her resources to help and find Lexa. Dante, who Clarke also recognized, agreed with Nia saying that Lexa’s survival was not a guarantee and would waste resources. While Anya sounded spiteful, Clarke couldn’t help but confer that their reason was just even though it seemed morally wrong. Each group had to look out for themselves in this world.

The discussion hadn’t lasted much longer until the thunking sound of a cowbell interrupted them.

“It’s time” Lexa said, nodding to the three women. Raven and Anya shared a look before walking towards the house. Clarke opened her mouth to say something but paused when she noticed Lexa walking without her stick.

Clarke grabbed Lexa’s arm, pulling her to a stop. “Where’s your walking stick?” she asked. Lexa tugged her arm free and raised her chin, looking down her nose at Clarke.

“I can walk just fine without it” Lexa declared and began walking away. Clarke stood confused, watching Lexa limp after Raven and Anya. Sure, Lexa was stubborn, but something was going on in that mind of hers. Something that Clarke was getting impatient with. 

Clarke quickly jogged to catch up. The walk to the house was short lived, having been about a football field away from the railroad tracks. As they got closer, Clarke noticed a man standing on the porch. She couldn’t make out his face until they were much closer.

“Miss Lexa Woods,” The man greeted once they reached earshot. He had pale white skin, and hair to match. As he smiled, his eyes wrinkled more than they were. “I thought I might never see you again.”

“Dante Wallace,” Lexa greated, climbing up the steps before Raven and Anya. “It’s good to see you” she said, shaking Dante’s hand as he offered it.

Dante turned from Lexa to greet both Anya and Raven before his eyes landed on Clarke. “And who might you be?” He asked curiously.

“This is Clarke Griffin. This woman saved my life and helped me get home” Lexa explained.

“Clarke Griffin,” Dante reiterated. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance. My name is Dante Wallace. Welcome to my home. Please, come inside. Nia and her people already waiting in the dining room” He said, opening the door behind him. The small group walked inside, nodding their thanks to Dante as they passed, and he closed the door after Clarke.

The house seemed relatively homely upon first impression. The living room was complete with the standard couch and coffee table, and to the left was the staircase to the second floor. Clarke followed closely behind Raven down a hallway that opened up to the kitchen and dining room. A sudden overwhelming wave washed over Clarke at the amount of people bent over the dining table. She sucked in a harsh breath as she scanned the faces which looked up and landed on her questioningly. 

Dante placed a hand on Clarke’s back, making her jump. “Would you like some coffee, Clarke?” He asked, chuckling at her jitters.

“You have coffee?” Clarke asked, her eyes widening.

“Indeed, I do. Perks of having an old gas stove” He replied with a kind smile. “I’ll pour you a cup before the meeting starts”

“Thank you very much”

Dante gave Clarke’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Of course, my dear” he said before walking into the kitchen. 

Clarke scanned the room again, and everyone that had been staring at her returned to what they were doing, albeit glancing over at Lexa who seemed unphased by their questioning eyes. Instead, she was busy discussing something with Anya.

Clarke found Raven talking to a man in a corner. He had dark skin and dark eyes, though the youthfulness in his face suggested he was around the same age as Raven. Not wanting to bug either of them, Clarke decided to stand to the side and take in her surroundings.

Her eyes landed on a painting hanging up on the wall behind her. It was a simple painting of a cabin in winter. It appeared almost flawless, but upon closer inspection, there were a few off shades that no one but an artist like herself would even notice. In one of the corners was a scribbled signature.

“I see you’re admiring one of my paintings” Dante spoke while he approached her with a mug in his hand.

Clarke took the mug he handed to her. “You’re an artist?”

“Indeed. Just as you are” He replied.

“How do you know I’m an artist?”

Dante lifted his hand and tapped on the side. Clarke looked at her hand, and low and behold, graphite had smeared on to her hand from drawing earlier.

“You’re very observant, Mr. Wallace” Clarke said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I was a businessman once, before all of this” Dante turned to look at his painting. “It was my job to see things, just as it is now.”

Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Lexa calling out her name. She turned to see narrow green eyes flickering between her and Dante. Her brow raised with expectancy, and Clarke turned to Dante with an apologetic look.

“Go on ahead, Clarke. I believe we’ve all chatted long enough anyhow” Dante said, giving her a warm smile.

Clarke nodded and said her goodbye before walking over to Lexa. She took a look at the table, littered with maps and other papers, while sipping gingerly on her steaming coffee. The bitter taste brought a fond smile to her face, and memories of her mornings began flooding to the surface of her mind. The nostalgia replaced her discomfort, and suddenly sitting through a long, possibly boring, meeting with intense strangers didn’t seem like a horrible thing.

“Before we begin this meeting,” A middle aged woman began from across the table, drawing everyone to a hush. “I would like to convey how grateful I am to see you alive, Lexa”

Lexa’s shoulders grew rigid as she raised her chin and narrowed her now toxic green eyes. “Thank you Nia. I am grateful as well” Lexa responded with a spiteful undertone. The middle aged woman, Nia, matched Lexa’s powerful gaze with her own fridged blue eyes. The whole room could feel the tension between the leaders’ struggle to regard each other politely.

“Lexa,” Dante began, slicing the tension in half. “Why don’t we begin this weeks meeting with your travels. Particularly the more crucial details”

“Of course” Lexa responded, pulling one of the maps towards her. “After Quint left Mia and I to die, I got trapped in a church…”

For about an hour they went over different locations Lexa and Clarke had traveled through on their way back to base camp. Lexa told them the most important things, such as the foot traps which remained at the small hunting shack, and how little resources were. Lexa, Nia, and Dante each agreed to send a patrol to go and retrieve those traps.

At some point, Clarke began to phase out everything that was being said and stared at the bottom of her mug once her coffee was finished. When they called a break, Clarke let out a relieved sigh. She ditched her mug in the kitchen sink and followed everyone to the living room. Scanning the room, her eyes danced among the intermingling people.

“Clarke” Raven approached Clarke with the same man she had been talking to before the meeting started, although this time he had a satchel hanging off his shoulder. “Meet Miller, uh Nathan Miller. He’s apart of Dante’s clan”

Miller held out his hand for Clarke. “It’s nice to meet a new face” he said as they shook hands. There was a kindness in his dark brown eyes.

“I told Miller about how you were into all that doctor stuff. He and his boyfriend Dr. Eric Jackson are working on a project you might be able to help with” Raven explained.

Clarke cocked her head curiously. “Wow, really?” 

“It would be nice to have a fresh pair of eyes take a look at what we have so far” Miller explained. He pulled a leather bound journal from his satchel and handed it to Clarke. It appeared worn and thick with knowledge. 

“What exactly is this project?” Clarke asked.

“We’re studying the lamebrains, and if we can, develop a cure” Miller explained. He sounded hopeful. Confident, even. It seemed like a solid idea, but also dangerous. Clarke wasn’t looking to die any time soon.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to Lexa and see what she thinks” Clarke replied, handing back the journal.

Miller shook his head. “Why don’t you just thumb through the pages and sleep on it. You can come by tomorrow or whenever you’ve made your decision” He said, smiling hopefully. Clarke looked back and forth between Raven and Miller, hardening her brow in thought. 

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal” Clarke said, adding a smile to the end of her sentence. Miller seemed to perk up more and his grin grew.

“Great, I’ll see you soon then” he said, and as soon as he did, people began to funnel back into the dining room. “I guess the meeting is back in session. It was nice meeting you, Clarke” He continued before waving goodbye and stepping into the line towards the dining room. Clarke turned to Raven with questions, but she had left towards the dining room as well. 

She sighed and remained in the living room, looking down at the journal in her hands. She wondered what kind of things were hidden behind the leather. Her imagination pictured random factoids, like if geeks could survive underwater, or if they ever get full. Instead of doing a quick scan of the contents now, she decided to save it for later. The meeting had yet to adjourn. Hopefully there wasn’t much left to go over.

-

The rest of the meeting only took about a half hour to go over trading and boundaries. Unfortunately for Clarke, every time she checked her watch, the slower the meeting seemed to go by. She would have read out of the journal she got from Miller if it wouldn’t have looked rude. 

At some point Lexa and Nia got into an argument. Or was it? It was hard to understand their dynamic. While talking to Lexa, Nia had this cold, sly look on her face as if she were the kind of person who enjoyed stealing candy from a baby. Lexa, on the other hand, remained completely blank. Everything Nia said to get a rise out of her had no impact, and Clarke was baffled by her restraint.

The meeting adjourned when Lexa and Dante secured a trade. A few mason jars of Monty’s algae for some dried meat. The thought of eating meat made Clarke practically drool where she stood.

Everyone made their way out of the house and back to their homesteads. People said their goodbyes, as well as Clarke to Dante, thanking him again for the cup of coffee. Dante seemed like a kind man, but there was something off about him. He had mentioned before that he was once a businessman so maybe it was just that.

****

The rest of the day seemed to go by like the day before and the day before that; slow. Lexa didn’t talk to Clarke, or barely even look at her. She was starting to believe that maybe Lexa was beginning to shut her out. Ever since they reached camp, their dynamic has shifted from what it once was. Either Lexa was afraid of being who she is around the group or maybe she wasn’t who Clarke thought she was. The latter seemed less likely, though, mostly because she has seen the emotion hidden behind Lexa’s façade. She wasn’t made of stone.

After dinner, which was delightfully dried meat, Clarke found herself sitting on the floor of Lexa’s box car and stared down at the leather bound journal given to her by Miller. Anxious as to what information lie ahead, she chewed on her bottom lip in anticipation. Eventually she opened up to the first page.

_ Experimentation of the Lamebrains _ by Dr. Eric Jackson and Nathan Miller.

Clarke flipped through the pages and squinted at the heavy cursive penmanship that so clearly came from a doctor and oddly reminded her of her mother’s handwriting. The journal was logged by days and held observations of geeks and their lifestyle. The first few pages were more about geek diets, motives, and possible causes of this disease. As she read further, this Dr. Jackson guy had convinced Dante to let him house a geek in one of the empty silos. Her stomach churned when she read how they contained the geek safely.

To keep the lamebrains from attacking and passing on their disease, we removed it’s arms and lower jaw. We tied a rope around it’s torso to keep it from running off.

It seemed so cruel to do this to something that was once human. Even though this Dr. Jackson guy had explicitly gone on about how geeks, or lamebrains as he calls them, are no longer human and can never go back, Clarke couldn’t help but feel wrong holding one captive instead of killing it. She justified the geeks’ deaths by calling it mercy, thinking that putting someone’s corpse to rest would also bring the soul once housed inside to rest as well. 

Lexa climbed into the boxcar, making Clarke jump. Their eyes met briefly before Lexa’s gaze trailed down to the journal. She looked back up at Clarke and narrowed her eyes.

“What is that?” Lexa asked, now standing over Clarke.

Clarke slowly closed the journal. “It’s nothing” She said, sitting up more. Lexa didn’t seem to waver. Instead, she reached out to grab the journal but Clarke pulled it away before she could take it.

“If it were really nothing, then why are you so protective over it?” Lexa asked, her brow hardening when their eyes met again. 

“Because it’s none of your concern” Clarke responded quickly, deciding in that moment that she wouldn’t allow Lexa to dictate her decision. 

Lexa stiffened, glanced over at the journal, and turned around. “Keep your secrets, then” she said before crawling into bed. Clarke held back a scoff and shook her head. Almost all day Lexa has been like this, so why should now be any different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha omg hey guys, thanks for being patient with me. Since the last chapter, and this one, I've had a bit of a heart break and was a bit turned off to writing any sort of romance. Just a reminder that this is told from Clarke's perspective and that everything that Clarke thinks obviously isn't what Lexa feels. Some people don't like to think more about the motivation behind other characters. Besides, what kind of writer would I be if I spelled everything out? I like to be mysterious okay.  
> Thanks for reading. I make no promises updating soon but...  
> Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!  
> As for criticism, feel free to (politely) correct any spelling or grammar errors. I didn't bother reading through it.


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